


Happiness Goes On

by Wawa_Girl



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Childhood Memories, Childhood Trauma, Drunkenness, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Healthy Relationships, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Language, Mention of Kidnapping, Panic Attacks, Past Sexual Assault, Post-Movie: Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Team as Family, Trauma, Violent Thoughts, mention of child molestation, mention of drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-03-31 08:42:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 25,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13971435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wawa_Girl/pseuds/Wawa_Girl
Summary: "What does it mean? The day the music died?"The words were said without the inquisitor looking at the human beside her, owner and expert of the tunes they were sharing."I guess..." Peter spoke up, his tone distant. Faraway. Lost. Gamora realized she would have given nearly anything to obtain Mantis' powers and know what he was feeling, what was going on in his head. "It means when people stop...appreciating it. Or learning from it? Or...use music to do...bad things."





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> **Warning:** I don't normally preface stories with warnings, but given the sensitive subject, I feel the need to make it _perfectly clear_ that this _does_ contain non-graphic discussion (no present day scenes or flashbacks) of child molestation. I believe everything of importance is properly stated in the tags.
> 
> This is in no way meant to be treated as a joke, or written in bad taste, for controversy, or cheap angst. This author has no expertise on the subject. I am only doing my best to respectfully and appropriately explore what the character might do or say if they were in that terrible situation. While every experience and person is different, if anything is wildly incorrect or inappropriate, I apologize and hope to learn better, both out of respect for real victims, and in the rare chance I choose to write for a similar theme in the future.
> 
> All that said, if this very subject is still too upsetting or disturbing for you to read, that is perfectly understandable. To those who do continue reading, I hope you enjoy it.

"Okay, buddy, are you ready?"

The sapling nodded eagerly at the human sitting on the floor in front of him.

"I am Groot!"

It was this moment that the Deadliest Woman in the Galaxy chose to enter the room from behind the duo.

"Yondu taught me this trick when I was _just_ a kid like you, and it can only ever be seen once, so you have to pay _very close attention_. Got it?"

Gamora considered intervening, rolling her eyes at the deception the legendary Star-Lord was sure to impart on the gullible child, but was too amused by the lesson to ruin their fun.

And she _was_ happy to hear Peter talking fondly about Yondu.

"Watch the candy," he instructed, holding up a red sweet that he always said resembled a Skittle. "Do not take your eyes off of it for a microsecond," he said dramatically, and the tree child gazed at it mystified. "First you do this..." Peter said, slowly moving it back and forth as though trying to hypnotize the viewer. "Then _this_..." he said, and began spinning the piece around on his index finger like a basketball, rolling it onto his other index finger to do the same on his left hand. "And _then_ you spin around quickly three times! Go ahead!" he told Groot excitedly, who did as he was told, and Gamora face-palmed at the next action.

Peter popped the candy into his mouth and immediately swallowed just in time for Groot to face him again. "Voila! It's gone! You see what I did?"

Groot frowned in confusion and looked around for where the snack could be. "I am Groot?"

"You _didn't?_ Ugh, no! Tough luck. You can only see the trick once, so now you'll never know..." he teased, and the child placed his tiny branches on his waist when he realized he'd been duped.

"I am _Groot_!" he said, scandalized.

"I didn't _eat it_. It disappeared! You weren't paying attention," he said feigning deep sorrow, and Gamora chose this time to make her presence known with a sarcastic slow clap.

"Very nice," she said as Peter turned around and stood up, unsurprised to see her there. "You should be so proud of yourself."

He leapt in her direction with a goofy smirk, while Groot was left stamping his feet and shouting his name in protest of such thievery. "Indeed I am, thank you," Peter played along. "One of many skills."

"How do you sleep at night?" she asked, though with a barely hidden grin that let him know she was amused. "Should we add 'lying' and 'stealing food from children' to your list of specialties in advertisement of our services? I'm sure that would be a wonderful hit with the Nova Corps."

It was Peter's turn to look scandalized, placing a hand over his chest in mock hurt. "What exactly are you accusing me of?"

"Exactly what you did," she replied, crossing her arms while Peter pretended to look offended. Rocket and Mantis walked into the room, staring down at the miniature flora's tantrum.

"I am GROOT!" he whined again.

"What's that? I couldn't understand you," Peter teased as though he still couldn't interpret Groot's language.

"He said that was his favorite flavor, and you're a dick," Rocket kindly supplied.

"Hmm, somehow I didn't hear that last part," Peter said to the raccoon. Mantis giggled at Groot climbing up the cockpit seat for the candy dish to get what was rightfully his.

"Where have you and Drax been all day?" the empath then asked Gamora.

Peter turned around to face her again. "Yeah, what have you been up to?" he asked, realizing it was the first he'd seen her in hours.

Gamora held a rare expression of suppressed excitement. "Oh, Drax has been...advising and assisting me in something. You'll see soon," she said, sounding almost proud.

"Yeah?" Peter asked, curious, but was interrupted from further questioning when Rocket could be heard loudly sniffing the air.

"Uhh...does anyone else smell smoke?" the cybernetic rodent asked in concern.

Gamora turned her head in alarm. "Smoke?"

"What's that beeping?" Mantis asked, before everyone heard Kraglin's voice holler throughout the ship.

_"FIRE!"_

"Fire?!" Peter reacted, ready to scoop up Groot to get him and the others outside, before he noticed Rocket already grabbing the child and Gamora opening the latch.

"Gamora, see everybody gets out safely!" he called before searching for the rest of their family.

"Peter, be CAREFUL!" Gamora demanded, hearing a faint _'I know!'_ in reply through the now blaring alarms.

The thickest cloud of black smoke greeted him at the entrance of the next room, and he activated his mask to avoid breathing it in, wanting to cover his ears to lessen the screeching of the smoke alarm. "KRAG! DRAX!"

"We got it!" he finally heard, the smoke gradually clearing enough to see the figures of two men holding the only two extinguishers aboard, putting out the last visible flames.

Once all sparks were gone, Kraglin began heavily fanning the area, and Drax started opening windows. "Go! We got it taken care of! Stay with the rest!" Kraglin unnecessarily shouted as Drax pounded the smoke alarm button off.

"Are you positive?" Peter asked his friends, though they did seem to have it under control, and an extra body without an extinguisher probably wasn't needed.

"Yes, you took out the last fire!" Drax said almost too casually.

Peter turned around and hesitated. "If you're not out in sixty seconds--!"

"Yeah, yeah..."

He fled out the main exit the others had used to evacuate, finding everyone standing nearby. Gamora was positioned right at the door, prepared to rush back in herself if Peter didn't return soon.

He turned off his mask and let out a hacking cough, and Gamora immediately embraced him, holding him close as relief washed over her. Then she made herself pull away. "Where are they?"

Coughing again, he waved a reassuring gesture. "They're okay. Fire's gone. It wasn't big," he said, and saw Groot wearing a look of fear from where Rocket was holding him. "I'm good, buddy. We're all okay. They'll be out any second," he tried to comfort, though his own voice was a touch shaky as he stared back at the ship.

At least their roving home was currently on land, while they were between jobs and exploring lesser-known planets. This sudden, emergency group expulsion may not have gone so smoothly if they had been mid-flight, pursued by a golden army.

"Do..." Mantis began, appearing equally shaken. "Do we know what caused it?"

Gamora paused in rubbing Peter's arm and looked...sheepish? "Umm...I may have an idea..."

"I think we _all_ have an _idea_ ," Peter cut her off and marched in the direction of their cybernetic, furry teammate from where he was calming the trembling baby tree.

He looked up at the Terran in confused annoyance. "What?"

"What were you doing this time?" their leader asked, crossing his arms.

Rocket crinkled his nose. "I wasn't doin' anythin'..."

" _Sure._ "

"Wait, Peter..." Gamora attempted to interrupt.

"There's _another_ stinkin' fire and you conveniently weren't doing _anything_ even remotely dangerous to trigger it?"

"Quill, I didn't--" the raccoon tried to defend himself, growing more irritated by the second.

"How many times does this have to happen before you get responsible with your flippin' explosives?"

"Peter!" Gamora stepped forward to stop him, and Drax and Kraglin finally exited, both covered in soot, the former Ravager pulling his shirt down from covering his nose and mouth. Peter glanced back in relief, presuming Gamora had called his name to alert him of their liberation, and he turned back around to his accused.

"Someone _could_ have been hurt or worse, ya know?!" he said, gesturing to the latest escapees.

Gamora whispered a question to Drax, and he mumbled his answer. She dropped her head.

"BUT QUILL, I--"

"And you keep _denying_ it, you little...pyromaniac nut case!"

"PETER!" Gamora screamed.

"What?!" he asked, turning around sharply.

"Rocket didn't start the fire. I did."

The pause following her confession was painfully long as Peter stared at her; the team awkwardly cleared their throats.

Their leader reluctantly made himself turn back around to face Rocket, who was giving him the angriest scowl to date.

"Oh."

 

**********

 

"I wanna to hear it again."

Star-Lord groaned from where he was sitting on the ground beside Gamora. Mantis was distracting Groot while he rolled around giggling in the dirt. Kraglin was opening the rest of _The Quadrant_ 's windows and checking for damages.

"I've apologized thirty times, Rocket," he reminded in exasperation. Of course he felt guilty for losing it on his teammate without good reason, but what he hated the most was that Rocket was going to hold this against him until the end of time.

"And I wanna hear it a thirty-first time. Come on," the raccoon taunted and held out his ear.

Peter's fingers massaged his temples as he faked a smile and stared back at the rodent. "I'm very sorry, Rocket."

"Fooooor?"

He gritted his teeth, feeling far less genuinely apologetic than the first fifteen times. "I'm sorry for accusing you of starting a fire when you had nothing to do with it."

"When in reality, it was _your_ 'perfect' girlfriend, who can't cook a d'asted meal to save a life," he completed. He knew this time Gamora's own self-frustration would stop her from threatening to chop off his feet, and took full advantage of the opportunity to torment them both.

She only sighed and grumbled, "We get it."

Kraglin tapped Peter on the shoulder, and Drax returned with water. Groot excitedly ran for his own miniature bottle.

"You couldn't tell it was comin' from the galley?" the former Ravager questioned.

Peter accepted the bottle Gamora passed to him and sneered. "I was a little more concerned with everyone staying _alive_ ," he tried to justify the error in judgment.

"And passin' around blame where it doesn't _belong_."

"You do have a track record, Rocket," Gamora spoke up to remind him, hoping to cut Peter some slack after her own embarrassing blunder.

Peter and Rocket's relationship had become much softer and forgiving in the months following Yondu's funeral, most of their insults and arguing far more carefree in nature. It was indeed a welcome change, but somehow Gamora knew that if Rocket started one more fire, or any other life-threatening incident, Peter's ability to stay calm and patient would reach its limit. She couldn't entirely fault him for cracking, even if this time his annoyance was misdirected.

"And now Gamora has the track record for fire starting! Yes?" Mantis said, while Groot absorbed his water like a sponge.

Gamora glared straight ahead at the empath, who quickly looked away in fear while Rocket snickered.

Drax then tapped Gamora's shoulder. "What did you do wrong?" he asked her. "You said you had it under control when I departed."

It was fair to say that their secret project - that Gamora had chosen to cook dinner for the first time, with Drax's his aid - was busted.

"You said to leave it alone to heat at 60 for ten minutes," she said, more confused than accusatory.

"I said heat at 40 for _two_ minutes," he corrected, having no idea how his instructions could have been interpreted any other way.

" _Oh_ ," the ex-assassin replied, cursing her over confidence at the task she had no prior experience, and Peter tried to stifle his giggles. Those numbers didn't sound the least bit similar enough to mix up.

Drax took their leader's suppressed amusement as permission to burst into extremely loud laughter. "Hahahaha, that is ridiculous!" he declared, and Mantis pointed and laughed to imitate the other's behavior.

Gamora stared skyward and bit her tongue to let them get it out of their systems, angrily drinking her water when they didn't cease.

"Knohock it off!" Peter intervened, trying to disguise his own laugh as a choke to avoid sleeping out in the cold that night. Everyone finally silenced. "It was an accident," he reassured Gamora and watched her soften.

"Oh, but when you thought _I_ did it you went off the fuckin' rails!" Rocket shouted, and Mantis gasped, grabbing Groot to cover his ears.

"Because I thought _yours_ was caused by a stupid detonator bomb rather than an attempt to prepare food for the family," he quipped back, feeling both endeared by Gamora's noble attempt at something new, and sharing in the amusement that the woman who seemed superior at every practical skill was defeated by something so simple.

"My bombs aren't stupid!"

"Aren't detonators and bombs the same thing?" Drax asked to the response of no one. Peter rolled his eyes at the man missing the point.

"What...were you tryin' to cook?" Kraglin asked, and Gamora dropped her head in disappointment again.

"It doesn't matter," she mumbled. Groot wandered over to her, said his name, and placed his head in her lap in apology for joining the others in making her sad.

"Well...what are we going to do for dinner now?" Mantis asked, also feeling bad for laughing.

Peter shrugged and looked up at Kraglin. "What's the damage?"

"Nothin' ruined, but it's gonna take a' least a couple hours before the air fully clears," he informed based on his last inspection. 

Gamora groaned, her guilt resurfacing. "I guess we'll just eat on _The Milano_ ," she said, dejected. There was enough emergency food stored inside their smaller, secondary ship. It may be cramped, but they used it for months in the time between forming the team and inheriting _The Quadrant_ after the celestial tyrant fiasco. Two more bodies could fit for one night.

"Or eat out here before the temperature drops," Peter suggested, but Rocket was already marching up to the couple with his own ideas.

"Nuh-uh! I don't think so!" he said. " _You_ nearly burn the ship down, _Quill_ lashes out at _me_ for it, and we're just gonna forget that and eat outside like animals?! _Don't!_ " he cut anyone off from commenting on the last word.

"Do you propose we re-enter and risk suffocation?" Drax questioned; Peter gave the ornery beast a pointed look.

"No! I'm _proposin'_ we go out somewhere to eat..."

Peter sighed, but had to admit it wasn't a terrible solution, despite Gamora's obvious regret that their dining wouldn't be going as she hoped.

"I suppose we could go somewhere close..." their leader began to agree.

"And _I'm_ choosing the joint..." Rocket continued.

"Fine..."

"And Quill's payin'."

"Keep dreaming!" the Terran replied to the catch.

There was a collection of sighs.

"I am _Grooooot_ ," the child whined about how long this was taking.

"You don't eat the same as us anyway," Peter teased, avoiding the raccoon's persistence. 

"You _owe me_ , Quill."

"I apologized _enough_ , Rocket."

"And did you not say during your sixth apology that you'd make it up to me?" he very conveniently remembered.

"Yeah, but...that was to get you to shut up," Peter admitted, and turned around to the others. "Back me up here, guys?" he shouldn't have asked, not gaining the support he intended.

"It _was_ quite the overreaction, Quill."

"Ya did say you'd make it up to the furry little maniac."

"I would not mind going where he chooses, before sunsets..."

"It's the logical thing to do."

"I am Groot!"

"Oh, come on!" Peter protested, knowing they were _right_ , but also that Rocket was going to purposely break him, and he only had so much available credit and units on hand. "She's the one who nearly burnt the ship down!" he said, jerking his thumb in Gamora's direction, causing her to move her head to stare at him.

"Hey!"

Peter immediately turned back to her and smiled. "I _love_ you," he said in a nervous, overly-cheerful tone. Her glare only lessened slightly, and he knew he already lost.

"Alright," he resigned as he stood up. "Fine dining for the Guardians of the Galaxy tonight!" he said, and Gamora lifted herself off the ground, as well. "We're not far from town. Makes sense to walk."

Rocket looked extremely satisfied, slapped on his pack, and started off without a word.

"Wait. Where shall we go?" Drax asked as he followed.

"Wherever I want," Rocket said, clearly undecided; the tiny tree leapt to the raccoon's shoulder.

Peter took Gamora's hand and whipped out his Zune, hoping to drown out Rocket's gloating and pass the time of what could be a very long journey.

"Lead the way, Richard Kimble," Peter said to the irritating trash panda, and Mantis and Kraglin were quick to ready themselves and follow.

Fortunately, Rocket marched the team toward a remote area, with less chance they would be noticed and recognized by civilians. The attention and pride boost from people who considered the mighty Star-Lord and Deadliest Woman in the Galaxy to be awe-inspiring heroes may have been nice after their shared embarrassment of the afternoon's events, but Rocket no doubt would have used the opportunity to tell the world _why_ they were traveling on foot for a meal out.

The criticisms of Peter's outburst and constant jokes about Gamora's inability to correctly heat a dish still peppered the conversation, Groot cackling as he skipped along. Peter did his best to ignore them, but Gamora was yet to crack a smile or raise her head from staring at her boots. Peter offered her an earbud a handful of times, but she rejected each, even when he knew it was a song she enjoyed.

"This establishment is far less clean than I anticipated," Drax stated after Rocket pointed to a building and declared it a good enough place to stop.

"Ehh, the alcohol's quality," the raccoon said.

"By 'quality' you mean 'expensive', don't you?" Peter said without receiving an answer, inspecting the bar that looked like its roof was falling apart.

"Who cares? We can finally eat," Kraglin said and walked through the doors.

"I am Groot!"

"Let us go! I am also hungry," Mantis said enthusiastically, and held open the doors for Drax to enter. Peter was about to follow, when he saw Gamora's face unchanged.

"Hold on, guys, I'll be a minute," he said, and Rocket paused in opening the door.

"You're not gonna run and back out, are ya, Star-Slanderer?"

" _No_ ," he insisted, needing to talk to Gamora alone before relaxing. "I'll be right in. And..." Peter began genuinely. "You know I _am_ sorry, right?"

Rocket looked surprised at the comment and softened, though only a morsel. "Yeah, yeah, I know," he admitted. "But nothin's changed. Just let your purse do the apologizin'," he said as he walked into the restaurant.

"Knapsack!" Peter shouted after him, but the twin doors were already closed, and with a huff he turned back to Gamora.

"Why aren't we going in--"

"Are you okay?" Peter finally asked her, less comfortable with her distress since their evacuation. Her strong disappointment over the direction the evening had taken was evident, and while _'Gamora started a fire trying to cook dinner'_ would always be a hilarious true sentence, he was worried the jokes were beginning to sting.

Gamora looked him straight in the eye and faked a smile. "Of course I'm alright. We should enter--" she said stoically, attempting to push past him.

"It was an _accident_ ," he repeated his earlier reassurance, hoping to take off some of the guilt. "It's okay."

Gamora relaxed and allowed her mouth to twist into a small, appreciative grin. "I know, Peter. But I am very sorry," she said, realizing that for all Peter's apologizing for blaming Rocket, she had yet to verbally express remorse for endangering the crew and being the reason they had to leave their home to eat. "It was my mistake, and I take full responsibility."

"Of course, we know that, but look," he said, wrapping his earphones around his Zune and pocketing it. "No one was hurt," he firmly stated the most important thing. "There was _no_ serious damage. We can safely go back in tonight. Don't beat yourself up over it. You're not the only one who's done something really stupid. The whole reason I assumed it was Rocket was because of his own history with flames," he reminded her.

She dipped her head and smiled. "Thanks, Peter. I know it isn't major, but I wanted to do something special..."

"I know. And you can always try again--"

"Pfft. Sure," she said with a scoff at the idea.

"Hey, ya can! Just...warn us next time so we can prep the fire extinguishers," he took the risk of joking, and to his relief she was still smiling through her eye roll.

"We'll see," Gamora replied, and Peter still wore an expression of concern. "I'll let it go so we can enjoy ourselves," she said, fearing Rocket would soon grow impatient and blow the place up.

"Let's!" he said and looped their arms, pulling her toward the door. "Tomorrow everything will go back to normal. Well, as 'normal' as our lives can be..." he said. "For now let's get Rocket off my back, pig out, go completely broke, crash back at the ship, and not let anything else ruin the night," Star-Lord announced, thrilled that her full smile seemed proof he was effective in cheering her up. "Deal?"

And Gamora nodded, the smoke and burning she created now far out her mind. "Deal."

 

**********

 

_"Dude!"_

Rocket dropped the drink he was busy draining from someone else's abandoned table.

"You already know I'm gonna pay. Put that down and sit!" Peter scolded from across the room, and the raccoon strode to the table Groot had chosen for them.

"I was warmin' up," he said, and hopped onto an empty seat in front of a holo-menu.

Peter's headache had significantly lessened, and stealing a swig of a stranger's drink technically wasn't out of range of his own habits. He just didn't want the group kicked out before they even had a bite.

He relaxed and gave Gamora a sly smile while she played with his fingers and they skimmed their own menu screen.

"Come on, they gotta have _some_ kind of A'askavarian food here. Least an appetizer," he grumbled at the selection's lack of his craving.

Gamora slid her hand away. "I'm not kissing you later if they do," she whispered. Rocket and Drax mirrored looks of disgust.

"Seriously, Pete, even if I think the stuff's gross," his adoptive brother chimed in his agreement with the table's majority. "What's the d'ast appeal?"

Their leader looked sheepish and shrugged. "You spend enough time committing heists there, you develop a taste," he answered.

"Whatever junk you end up shovin' into your trap, make sure ya leave enough money for the countless number of drinks you'll be buyin' me," Rocket reminded. "And do you know why?"

Peter and Gamora looked at each other and spoke in unison. "Because you didn't start the fire."

"Because _I didn't start the fire_ ," he shouted his own answer as though he couldn't hear them.

"Yo, Billy Joel, we heard you the first twenty times. Give it a rest."

Drax took on a look of perplexity. "Rocket has not changed his name to match that of your Terran musician."

Mantis perked up after seconds of silence. "No, no. It is because of that song! Hahahahaha!" she began laughing, to Rocket's visible irritation. "Clever joke!"

Gamora rolled her eyes; it wasn't Peter's best reference. "We should select a group meal to split. It'll be cheaper," she suggested, though knew getting all seven of them to decide on the same food was a pipe dream.

"I am Groot," the child asked her while jumping over the utensils, holding his arms outward like he was on a balance beam.

"Stop asking that," Gamora told the little one teasingly. "It's irrelevant; they won't have it."

"Wait, why does the 'pyromaniac nut case' get to tell us how to order?" Rocket protested, and Gamora nearly slammed down her holo-screen.

"Yes, fine, we all know I started a fire!" she stated, now exasperated instead of embarrassed. "And Peter steals candy from children! So we're all guilty!"

"I am GROOT!" he said staring up at Peter, in a tone that screamed, _'I knew it!'_.

"She started a fire, she doesn't know what she's saying," he jokingly whispered to the kid who didn't believe him for a second.

"SERVICE!" Kraglin called out while the couple made mock angry faces at one another.

The night wouldn't be so bad, Peter thought. After Rocket bled him dry of all currency, his false accusation would hopefully be forgiven, and they'd be well-nourished enough given the circumstance. Gamora was feeling better about her mistake, and was also being...exceptionally playful with him under the table.

_Oh yeah. Good, fun night ahead._

"What'll it be?" came the bored voice of a server, who looked mildly stunned at the sentient rodent and tree waiting to dine.

"About time. A round of the strongest liquor to start, and it's all goin' on the tab of our _incredibly fair_ leader, seated beside Miss Warrior of Flames here," Rocket boasted, to the server's complete disinterest.

"Yeah, yeah," the Terran confirmed before looking up from his cuisine list. "Tab name's Quill, or _Star-Lord_ , if you wanna get that out of the way. Do you have any--?"

And Peter Quill froze.

"I...I...uhh..."

The hero had no idea how his face looked while he stared up at the middle-aged waitress, incapable of forming words, but judging by the woman's confused expression, it likely betrayed all the shock, discomfort, and horror that was spinning through his mind as he could no longer think or care about dinner.

Voices surrounded him, all too faint to understand. He was too preoccupied with holding back the need to regurgitate.

Eventually he turned his head away and tried to close his agape mouth, and identified the sound of Gamora asking if he was alright, followed by his friends placing their orders.

He felt like he was underwater, but forgot how to hold his breath. Drowning. Yeah, that's the word. Shit. It can't be her. It can't actually be--

_"PETER!"_

Gamora's shout snapped him back to the present, and he instinctively scooted his seat away from his girlfriend. She looked hurt for a moment, and resumed her concern.

The female server was gone.

"What's the matter?" Gamora demanded. "Do you know her?"

Speaking or thinking clearly had become extremely difficult, and he failed miserably at faking contentment. "Uhh...ummm...I think--think so..." he muttered, gazing into his lap.

"I am Groot?" he heard directed at him, and finally lifted his eyes to see everyone else's were on him.

"I--I'm f-fine," he lied to the child, fighting a losing battle with his sudden dizziness.

"Who was that? Should we all be worried?" Mantis asked fearfully.

"A dangerous foe?" Drax questioned, one hand on a back pocket knife.

Peter slowly shook his head, and made the foolish decision of glimpsing back at the woman, hoping he mistook the recognizable face and his brain was playing tricks on him, only to whip his head back to the table once he got confirmation.

_Dammit._

"Pete, what's the matter with ya?" he heard Kraglin ask, but it was all noise. He tried his damnedest to relax and push every unpleasant thought out of his stupid head.

"Hold up, I know what's goin' on," shouted Rocket, who had looked the least concerned, but still confused. "Quill banged that girl before," he tossed out his guess with a confident burst of laughter.

And at that, Peter's uneasiness was amplified by ten, and Gamora's concern morphed into tired irritation.

She heaved a sigh and slumped into her seat. _Of course._ Not the first time. She looked over at Peter, and though surprised and mildly fretful over his extreme reaction, felt annoyed that he wouldn't admit it.

"N-n-n-no-no-, not-not-not ex-a-a-actly," he stammered out, wincing at the fact that he was stammering. _Come on, this doesn't matter. Let it go. Calm the fuck down._

"She's a bit on the older side," Drax observed. It wasn't quite impolite, but all Peter wanted was for everyone to shut up on this subject. Or shut up in general. That'd help.

"Hey, respect!" Rocket obliged, Gamora scowling at the indiscretion, also not a fan of this new topic.

"Wait...isn't she...that old contact? The one you wet yer pants in front of as a kid 'cause Capt'n wouldn't let you go before her visit?"

"WHAT?!" Rocket spit out his drink in an even harder laugh.

"N-n-n-no, not--not her..." Peter answered, wanting the noise to _stop_.

"I never told y'all that one?" the former Ravager asked, a resounding "no!" coming from the table.

Peter had apparently stopped looking like a zombie enough for them to think he was okay, but Gamora took notice that he didn't seem annoyed like the other times Kraglin told the team embarrassing childhood stories.

Nevertheless, she felt her irritation growing, because if Peter would _tell her what was going on_.

He saw the waitress out of the corner of his eye again, and knew he had to get out. He couldn't sit here. Not with Gamora glaring at him, not with everyone joking and laughing so loudly, not with the same person so close...

"I-I-I-I g-g-g-g-otta...piss," he spit out the first excuse his distracted brain could muster and bolted toward the nearest exit.

"The restroom is the other way!" Drax called out to him, and shrugged when the Terran vanished regardless.

"I am Groot?"

"He's okay, probably snuck a few drinks on the walk here," the raccoon assumed, refusing to interrupt his dedicated "time to get wasted" hour. "Anyway, about that story," he said to Kraglin, leaning into the table.

Natural conversation resumed, Peter's strange behavior out of mind, but Gamora never took her eyes off the exit.

He just _ran out_.

_Again._

Forcing away all concern, and instinct that something else was wrong, she decided that he wasn't getting away with that. Not this time.

The remaining Guardians didn't bat an eye when moments later Gamora was dragging out her chair and following after their leader, assuming whatever the sudden issue, Gamora would beat some sense into him, and they would find the two disgustingly making up in the cockpit later.

It didn't take long for her to locate him.

"Peter!"

He jolted from where he was steadying himself against the wall, forehead pressed hard into the bricks.

"What the hell was that about?"

She tried to remain calm, but it was difficult to keep the edge out of her voice.

Peter was holding onto his knees in an effort to stay balanced, breathing irregular. "I-I-I'm sorry, 'Mora. I had to..." _Breathe. Breathe._

"What happened to not letting anything else ruin the night?" she reminded him of his earlier declaration.

"There's been a...detour..." He winced, not knowing the right word.

"Why? Because we ran into another woman you slept with so you needed to bolt instead of staying with the group and dealing with it like an adult?"

His head throbbed again. _No, no, no, I can't tell her now. Just go away._

"It's not like that this time, I promise..."

"Then what is it?" she asked softer, stepping forward and allowing him to speak, giving him the benefit of the doubt.

He only bit his tongue and stepped backwards, and she sighed.

"Peter, it's not a big deal. We are not adolescents. I won't be mad or jealous because you've had sex with other people before we met." It wasn't the entire truth. Nothing would eradicate her jealousy at the very thought of Peter and another woman _in that way_ , but she knew she couldn't be rationally angry about it. "We get it, you got around. Fine. It's in the past."

_Ugh, please, Gamora, stop it, stop it, stop it..._

"What's _not_ okay is you ditching us _every damn time_ you bump into one."

"I--I understand, but--but this is different..." _Breathe._

"I'll believe that when you explain it." She didn't want to believe Peter was lying, but to cover up another one of his conquests while she was at her limit made sense, and it's not as though he was communicating what made this any different.

And he told her _everything_.

"Look, whatever specifically happened with her that's got you shaken up, tell me during dessert. I don't care that you slept with her, and if she tried to stab you after, she's hardly the first!" she said throwing her hands up in the air, and got the impression from the way his eyes were squeezed shut that Peter wasn't listening. "She didn't recognize you! Everyone already ordered, and you owe Rocket. Let them make their immature remarks and bear it."

"Please, Gamora, _leave me alone_ right now. I'll see you later. I really need...air--"

"Cut the drama, Peter. There's air inside," she said abruptly. "Twenty minutes ago you insisted we would let everything go and enjoy ourselves."

"Gamora, I seriously can't--" He loved her, but another face was trapped in his brain.

"Well, _I_ can't do this anymore either, Peter!" she cut him off, and for the first time saw a hint of anger in his eyes. "If we're going to be in this relationship, I can't handle you acting like a child every time some woman you screwed over shows her face. I can't stand when one of your own stupid past decisions rears its ugly head and you disappear--!"

_"SHUT! UP!"_

A disturbing silence hung in the air, and the couple looked almost equally shocked at Peter's volume and words.

" _Excuse_ me?"

He felt horrible, wanted to take it back, wanted to punch himself in the gut, yet somehow gained the confidence to continue, because he needed a damn _break_.

"Can you please _cut the lecture_ right now?! I wanna be alone, why can't you respect that?!" he screamed between shaky breaths, while a fuming Gamora only stared as he dug himself in deeper. "I respected how you messed up today!" he let slip out what was completely irrelevant.

"Are you kidding right now?" Gamora replied. Was he seriously doing a complete one-eighty from his earlier comfort and throwing the kitchen fire back in her face? "Are you blaming me for why we're out here?"

"No--" he choked out, unable to even focus on this stupid fight, because no matter what was coming out of their mouths, entirely different memories wouldn't fade.

"We're out here because you were an ass to Rocket!" she reminded. "And you're keeping up that trend _right now_!" If he thought he was on thin ice _before_...

"I know, I just--" He knew how vague and terribly unfair he was being, but he never expected a disturbing memory delivery, and for once Gamora's presence _wasn't helping_. "I said this was different, and don't wanna talk about it! You don't have to fucking believe me, but it's not about you!"

Gamora was prepared to scream something incredibly immature back, but paused at his last sentence.

It was only then she registered the tears in his eyes. The horrible crack in his voice. The returning instinct that something much bigger was very wrong.

She realized his broken concentration, troubled breathing, and tormented demeanor were not in her imagination.

"Peter..." she said lower this time, and took a tentative step.

Clearly something was worse than an unwanted interaction with a past hook-up. This was more than Peter being miffed that Gamora had tracked down his hiding spot.

And the biggest clue wasn't his anxiety, watery eyes, or uncharacteristically harsh language toward her.

It was what he did next.

"I meant--I can't--...I... _please_. Don't follow me," he said, before he turned around and ran, stumbling as fast as possible until he was out of sight.

"PETER?!" she hollered into the distance, into the direction he had fled, gaining no response.

Which left Gamora stunned.

Peter didn't...Peter didn't _leave_ in the middle of arguments.

Their leader had a habit of running whenever he spotted a former enemy or one-night stand, but never when the couple were having a dispute. He stubbornly remained, obnoxiously following her from room to room, not caring who else on the ship was bothered, joking that he was "in it to win," but she knew the true reason.

He never wanted to risk the two staying angry after parting ways or falling asleep, fearful something dangerous might happen before it resolved.

Just like the last time she had stormed away after a fight, and was later petrified beyond hope that she would never see him again.

Dread flooded her system, and her hands covered her face.

He ran away this time. He disappeared at the peak of a shouting match, looking more distraught than she had ever seen him. More distraught than after Yondu's death or his worst post-trauma nightmares.

She took a deep breath, and able to reflect once alone, mentally recapped her every word and action since following him out of the restaurant. She didn't know _what_ had gotten into Peter, and didn't care for his attitude, but wasn't quite feeling superior.

She had over-reacted, allowing her pre-existing bad mood, mixed with irrational jealousy, lead to an unjustified outburst of hasty assumptions and cruel chastising no better than Peter had treated Rocket. She was pissed at Peter silencing her, while simultaneously ashamed at the way she had silenced him.

_Dammit._

Glancing back at the smeared windows of the building where their friends were laughing and getting drunk, she knew marching back inside to eat with their team wasn't an option.

Nor was honoring Peter's last request, she decided as she followed his footsteps in the dirt.

Their budding relationship couldn't survive otherwise.

And _she_ couldn't rest until she knew he was okay.

 

**********

 

Peter Quill collapsed on his knees and gasped a loud interjection in the middle of the thankfully vacant area he had dragged himself.

Eyes burning, and deep shuddering breaths that were only getting worse by the second echoing in his ears, he knew he had fucked up.

Never before had he disrespected Gamora so terribly. At least not since...that time. _That_ planet. _That_ fight.

_Fuck it._

How did he get here? Why was he even thinking about this? Trying to order food with his trusted friends led to seeing a person he never thought he would see again.

To being mentally transported back to a day he had thoroughly blocked out decades ago.

From the moment he saw that face, now under preferable circumstances, he felt nothing but horror. He felt small. Under surveillance. Preyed upon.

_You are not a child anymore. Brush it off, Star-Lord._

He rationally knew this, he could have remained cool, yet somehow went from needing fresh air to recover from that shock to screaming at the person he loved, all because her words had amplified his pathetic mindset, and he couldn't take it anymore.

He couldn't _take it_.

His eyes stung again, and he was breathing heavier.

Now Gamora hated him, and he had ruined this relationship before it had even really started.

_No..._

_God, I am such a fuck-up._

And the worst part was that his treatment of Gamora, the inexcusable way he'd lashed out, the very fact that he broke his own rule and bailed in the middle of an argument, rather than just telling her the stupid and revolting truth, was all at the very back of his consciousness.

The fight only felt minuscule compared to what was at the front of his mind - a blur of buried emotions from a time nearly forgotten.

A blur of feeling trapped. Vulnerable. Humiliated. Exposed.

He was a clueless brat in an unforgiving world, and had no idea what was happening or how to get away--

_You're safe. You're a fucking adult. Get a hold of yourself._

None of his mental advice and reminders worked. He still felt under attack, his heart pounding, sweating profusely, vision unclear, everything spinning. He couldn't stand back up to return and apologize to Gamora if he tried. His legs felt like cinder blocks and chest was on fire, certain he was going to puke.

And he officially _could. not. breathe._

_No no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no, I can't breathe, can't breathe, can't fucking breathe, BREATHE!_

He didn't think he would be any less in control if he had stayed to suffocate inside the smoke-filled ship.

_What's wrong with you? Fucking breathe! Come on!_

It all only intensified. Hand on his chest and eyes closed, he was hyperventilating while making a fist into the dirt.

"Heh...help!" he gasped to nobody, partially grateful for the lack of audience, and partially terrified of being alone.

_Where am I? What's happening? Why was she there?_

He tried crawling forward, and shaking his head was only making his confusion worse. He forgot everything.

Everything, except that he wasn't breathing, and _that moment_.

Suddenly he was no longer the leader of one of the most famous space hero teams, but the youngest, shortest Ravager in trouble for his own stupid disobedience.

_Stop! Leave me alone! NO!_

Gasp.

_I have to get away, I can't stay here..._

Gasp.

_I'm so sorry, Mom..._

Gasp.

_No, I don't know, I don't know, I'm not--I'm not...I'm...fine!_

Forcing himself to acknowledge this fact and recognize the situation, Peter opened his eyes and attempted a deep breath.

_You are not a kid. You are not trapped. You are not dying. You can breathe._

_Snap out of it._

He tried again, slowly, in through his nose, and a long, painful, shaky breath out his mouth.

_This is not the first time this has happened. Focus. Breathe. Count._

"Wa--wa...one..."

_Yeah, just like that. You've done it before. No need to freak out. Just count and breathe._

"Ta..two..."

_Breathe and count, count and breathe, you pathetic idiot._

"Threeee..."

_Focus. Nothing else matters. She is not going to touch you, and you're an adult. You're in the present._

"F--Four..."

_I can't do this, I can't--I can't...I can. I can. Yeah._

_I can do this. I'm Star-Lord._

_Just fucking count._

"Fiiiiiihihihiiii...iiive..."

The breaths were becoming more regular, and the overwhelming sense that he was going to throw up was beginning to pass.

"Six," he said without stammering or second guessing the number, clearing his throat and remembering to take slow breaths.

_In and out. There ya go, you over-reacting weirdo._

"Seven."

_She's a goddamn waitress now, and that face took you by surprise, and no one is in danger._

"Eight," he said firmly.

_That one day isn't today. That's not reality._

_Gamora._

_Gamora. Rocket, Drax, Mantis, Kraglin, little Groot. They're your reality, and they care, and they don't have to know._

__"Nine."_ _

_Yondu's gone, and he cared, and it's okay, because you can think and care for yourself._

"TEN," he shouted more than necessary, and realized his breathing was practically normal again.

"Oh boy..." He removed the hand from his chest and placed it on his forehead. He was dizzy, faint, and weak, but there was progress.

He could think straight, and he could breathe. The worst was over.

"GAH! Shit...fuck..." he groaned and pried himself from the ground, nearly tripping on nothing and walking to a slab of stone to take proper seat.

 _'Christ, what is wrong with you?'_ he berated himself again, adjusting his posture and staring at the few civilians walking from a distance. He kept focusing on his breathing, this time counting backwards, and with much more confidence.

Tears continued to prickle, he still felt sick, but he was better.

Where that had come from was beyond him. Yes, it wasn't on his calendar to experience an unpleasant reminder of a screwed up event, but it was not worthy of such a breakdown.

_Let it go._

He kept taking slow breaths and shook his head. He didn't trust himself to move, didn't think he could handle returning and being in close quarters with... _her_ again.

He only hoped Gamora had gone back inside to eat and have fun. He had no appetite anymore.

 _'Deep breaths, keep it going,'_ he coached, and remembered another calming tool.

_Music._

He fumbled into his jacket pocket for his Zune, and with shaky hands untwisted the wires. _It'll help. It always helps._

Anything to take his mind off this. Anything to fight off this creeping paranoia and pathetic anxiety.

_You have a much larger selection and variety now._

He placed in both ear pieces and pressed forward on the clicker.

Everything would work out with Gamora. It had to. They were _happy_ before this evening. She was happy with him, he was sure of it.

He'd screwed up, but they could save this.

He was an ass. An ass to Gamora, an ass to Rocket, an ass to _Groot_ , but they had all forgiven one another for worse. She would talk to him again. Right?

Even though he'd insisted she not follow him, and she had taken his advice.

Even though he'd ruined the night when he was supposed to be distracting and cheering her up after the team giving her grief over the accidental fire.

Peter sighed.

It would be okay. He was okay. For now he had to relax.

Because for all his distractions and self-reassurance, he still felt disgusting.

Disgusting. Used. Ashamed.

And absolutely scared shitless.

A song began, and Peter let the first notes wash over him, eyes closed again, breathing steady, mouthing lyrics.

_A long, long time ago..._


	2. Part Two

Gamora could confirm only one thing upon spotting the man she was searching.

He was not _okay_.

She knew it the second she found Peter at the tail end of a panic attack.

Not even their worst fight would garner such a reaction.

Approaching with caution, she heard the incoherent recitation of numbers, and a vaguely familiar chorus, from where he was sitting up straight with earphones blocking out the rest of their environment, including her footsteps.

The warrior made an educated guess this was the reason for the violent flinch when she touched his shoulder.

Startled and gasping, Gamora instantly removing her hand, he yanked down the black cords from his ears and blinked himself into reality.

"H-hey, it's you..."

"Hi," she replied carefully.

Peter crumbled.

"I'm _sorry_. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'msosorry. I don't want you to shut up, I--I love that you tried to cook, I'm sorry for saying all those things, I'm sorry for running off, I--I was wrong, I love you, I-I-I'm SO goddamn sorry, Gamora, I'm sorry..." he repeated, hoping the number of times he said it would nullify his previous conduct.

She only nodded in acceptance of his multiple apologies, and moved to wrap her arm around his neck. Though instead of curling into her as he usually did whenever groveling, he instinctively moved away.

 _'Okay...'_ Gamora thought as she took the hint that he didn't want to be touched. _Alright._

"I am sorry, too," she firmly stated, her arms folded behind her back. "I was overly harsh, and I should not have jumped to conclusions."

He ceased repeating _'I'msosorry'_ enough to smile slightly and look up at her. "It's okay. I have a track record," he admitted, repeating her comment to Rocket regarding his false incrimination that same day.

Gamora shrugged. It wasn't an excuse, though they had bigger things to discuss.

"What's going on?" she asked softly, this time waiting for his answer without a pre-decided explanation of her own.

He didn't give one. "Where's everyone?" he asked instead, looking behind him.

"Eating dinner, my best bet. I didn't re-enter. I know you said not to follow you--"

He waved in an _'it's fine'_ gesture, relieved it was only the two of them, fiddling with the rubber covering of his earbuds.

Then Gamora swallowed and asked the real question.

"Who is she?"

Peter squeezed his eyes shut and titled his head away, wishing they could stay on the topic of their fight and let him continue apologizing for the next three years.

"...no one to be jealous of," he muttered.

"I get that now," Gamora said, sounding guilty for the earlier assumption, before getting back on point. "Who is she?"

He sighed. "I don't know her name," he answered truthfully.

"That's not what I meant." He was dodging the question, and that was worrying her even more. "What did she do?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose and so wanted to time travel to fifty minutes ago. Before today, there was no _reason_ for Gamora to know this. He had zero incentive to ever tell her about that...incident.

Of course he didn't believe she would judge, but it was so _unnecessary_ to fill her in on such a disgusting yet insignificant event in his far more exciting childhood. Not to mention his overreaction felt horrendously tasteless and disproportionate compared to the injustice and abuse she'd faced for most of her lifetime.

Not to mention he didn't want to risk anyone else knowing.

Not to mention he had never spoken of it out loud, and didn't even know _how_ after this many years.

"I...nothing, she...I don't like to talk about it," he said, and Gamora knew from his pleading eyes that she should leave it at that. He didn't have to tell her literally _everything_. It was unusual for him to keep past history from her, even his most painful memories, but he was allowed. She certainly didn't reveal many personal details. Demanding more from him would be cruel and hypocritical.

She wasn't _entitled_ to his memories, and should not have acted like she was.

Although his next words she refused to agree.

"It's not a big deal..."

"You just had a severe anxiety attack upon seeing her face," Gamora protested the idea. Peter was _strong_. Sentimental, grief-stricken, impulsive, and silly, but also one of the strongest people she knew.

This woman's involvement in his past was not "no big deal."

Peter rolled his eyes, frustrated that she'd seen him in such a pathetic state. "I overreacted. I'm better," he said almost jokingly, but Gamora's face was unchanged.

"You don't have to tell me. I just feel awful, and am concerned--"

"There's nothing _to_ tell," he insisted. "I know it looks _bad_ , but seeing her t--took me by surprise, and I was in shock and upset, but didn't mean for it to get out of control. Really," he said more than he intended, and the next part slipped out. "I--I--you guys weren't _entirely_ off about it being...ya know..." he trailed off, and that raised Gamora's morbid interest. Peter was an open book, was never this disturbingly vague.

And since when could he not say "sex?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, curious how there was a connection, still believing this was not a situation to be jealous.

"I-I-It's different. It's stupid to care, it doesn't matter, it was a _long_ time ago," he said. "Worse shit has happened since, fucking obviously. It wasn't super dangerous or violent, plus it was...a _long_ time ago," he repeated, and Peter's emphasis on that part was leaving Gamora greatly unsettled.

She gritted her teeth and hoped to fucking hell the implication of his words and possibility flashing in her brain weren't the truth.

" _How_ long ago?" she asked, her voice dangerously low.

Sighing again and dipping his head, he answered. "Twenty-five years, I guess?" he said, missing his enraged girlfriend's eyes widening as he tried to figure out the math for the exact passage of time.

She would have shouted her next question if her teeth weren't clenched, her anger the only thing keeping her from being sick. _"How old were you?!"_

Rubbing his forehead and wanting to take off again and throw up, he continued his honest answers. "Nine. Nine and a half, really close to ten. Practically ten-years-old, okay? I've pretty much blocked it, but seeing her...and listen, it's not as bad as you're imagining. It could've been worse, longer--she barely touched--" he was growing uncomfortable again, and Gamora couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"You...you're saying that you were...that she...?" she asked slowly, trying to verify what he was indirectly trying to communicate. "When you were a kid she fucking molested--?"

"Ugh, yes, alright?!" he clarified before Gamora could finish that sentence. "It was _that_ ," he choked through his embarrassment.

It was out. She knew.

_Fuck!_

Gamora was seething.

"And you're _one thousand percent positive_ that was _her_?" she demanded, _needing_ confirmation Peter had identified the correct culprit before she did something that landed her on death row.

"Yes," he whispered, oblivious to Gamora's face going red or the grip on her pocket sword strengthening. "It's her."

He never forgot that faint, purple skin. Those intricate wrist and neck tattoos that resembled butterflies and _Transformers_ symbols.

Those piercing eyes.

"I'll be back," Gamora's voice cut through his thoughts, and she began marching back to where she came from.

Peter immediately stood, snapping out of his shame, terrified of the ex-assassin's next actions. "Where are you going?!"

"To do what should've been done twenty-five years ago!" she screamed back, minutes away from introducing this evil being to a torture beyond her most twisted fantasies--

"GAMORA, STOP!"

Her body stilled; she lowered her sword and prepared to scream back her refusal to yield. He pleaded again from a distance.

"DON'T--come BACK! Please!"

She slowly turned around with eyes that could kill, and indulged his request by angrily scraping her boots in the dirt, still with the full intention of covering that restaurant in viscera.

Peter sagged with relief when she returned, and he sat back down. "You _can't_ barge in there and murder--"

"Tell me one good reason why I shouldn't!" she hollered, not caring that she was making a scene to any passersby, knowing she would be making an even bigger spectacle inside that rugged establishment.

 _"You know why,"_ Peter said through gritted teeth. Calming her down had never been his specialty.

"The only two reasons not to stab her eyes out are that you just told me a filthy lie, or that we've experienced a severe translator malfunction!"

"It's not a lie, and you heard correctly."

"That is _sick_!"

"I agree--"

"Then why protect her?!"

"I'm _not_ ," he said, the idea outrageous.

"So you think I can't take her?"

"Of course you could!" he replied without a blink. "No!"

Gamora threw up her hands and breathed heavily through her nose, unable to feel anything other than blind rage, but also not wanting to have a second fight with Peter after they just made up, after he just confided in her about something like _that_.

"It's not worth it," he said, frustrated he even had to remind her why she couldn't kill a complete stranger over an incident that took place decades ago. Gamora whipped her head back to face him.

"Don't you dare tell me you're not worth it--"

" _She's_ not worth it," he growled. "We are not vigilantes, Gamora. It happened twenty-five years ago without any evidence, and at this moment she's not hurting anyone and is in a public setting doing a job. You can't attack a seemingly innocent stranger and risk everything!"

"Then I'll wait until there are no witnesses..."

"Gamora!" Peter cried, realizing his stupidity in telling her this while the offender in question was two minutes away. "There is nothing that can be done about this. I've accepted that. I haven't even thought about it in fifteen years, look--" he paused, knowing his own self-deprecation and downplaying wasn't a convincing argument. "Everything we've worked for, our crimes exonerated, the names we've created, our reputation as the good guys, _your freedom_ are not worth this...bitch. You know why this isn't an option!" he kept talking, taking advantage that she hadn't moved again. "Please. I know you're in shock, but let's...relax. Cool down before doing anything rash we'll all regret." It was so strange needing to be the voice of reason. Gamora was always the one talking _him_ out of insanity.

But she was fiercely protective, with a high sense of morality and justice, and he should have known her first primal instinct would be revenge against anyone who harmed him, especially as a child.

"If this were about something that happened to _me_ you would be wanting to do the same thing," Gamora said, her voice bitter, but at least she was talking instead of impaling.

"Absolutely," Peter confessed without opposition. It was already true, every time he merely _thought_ about Thanos and all the torture and inhumane acts thrust upon Gamora, and he knew he would be livid and ready to kick the ass of _anyone_ who did anything of the nature they were discussing to the person he loved most. "And in that situation you would be telling _me_ why I can't do that. Now I have to be level-headed and help you."

Gamora held back a reply. Peter almost took her hand, but his were still shaking, and he didn't want to set her off worse.

"'Mora...please. I care too much to--don't destroy your new life because of this. It's over," he rationed, and her expression revealed that she knew he was right.

She just didn't care.

"You can't stop me," she finally whispered, leaving a powerless Terran watching horrified as she marched off again with the same zealous quest for blood.

"No...Gamora! ...Please!" he said more pitifully. He knew following her would do no good, and sank with his head in his hands as he hoped she would come to her own senses.

Gamora ignored his distressed cries.

 _'She doesn't deserve to live,'_ her only train of thought.

_That disgusting creature is not going to keep existing while I have a say in it._

"Gamora, come on! Wait!"

_How dare she..._

_How dare she do that to Peter._

_He was a fucking child._

_He was NINE._

"...know it's not worth it!" she tuned out Peter's protests that were becoming more faint, and strode further without her confidence wavering.

_Of course it's worth it._

_Any consequences that sick freak may have experienced were not enough._

_She is going to pay._

"Gamora, think about it! Just _wait!_ "

_Our friends are in there having a grand old time, oblivious that there's a fucking child predator serving them._

Gamora didn't know the laws of this planet, but was sure their government would be grateful for her punishing this individual.

"...no one's in danger right now!"

_Who cares?!_

_It's the right thing to do._

_She hurt Peter. She violated him at his most vulnerable._

Someone who did that, no matter how long ago, didn't get to continuing breathing in Gamora's presence.

She didn't care if this vile cunt was being "peaceful" in the current time. She didn't care if it wasn't Peter's worst trauma, or if he hadn't thought about it in _twenty_ years.

This person had _no_ right, and brought him to a panic attack upon seeing her face as an adult.

"PLEASE at least wait! Wait until the others are gone! You'll figure something else out!"

Peter's voice was barely able to be heard from her distance now, reaching her ears in low echoes.

She considered his most recent argument, but kept moving. If she stopped now her adrenaline would never be matched later. She needed to destroy her _now_.

Nothing was stopping Gamora from carrying this out.

_Nothing._

"I'm SO sorry I told you!"

And Gamora halted.

She wanted to convince herself that she had heard him wrong, but--

"I KNOW I shouldn't have told you now, I--I'm sorry, just please don't...don't do it..."

The warrior took a deep breath, and the fingers on her sword subconsciously loosened.

She twisted her neck to see Peter as merely a speck in the vast area.

A speck shaking, voice breaking, desperate.

This woman had hurt Peter. She hurt him twenty-five years ago, and she hurt him again today.

And now Gamora was making it worse.

Confliction and frustration overwhelming her, she collapsed onto her knees so roughly she felt her skin burn. She could practically feel Peter's eyes boreing into her back watching the scene.

She wanted to kill her _so_ bad. Kill her for what she did, _yes_ , but also to silence...

_"...because we ran into another woman you slept with so you needed to bolt instead of staying with the group and dealing with it like an adult?"_

Gamora gasped at her own heartless words that haunted her mind.

_"...Let them make their immature remarks and bear it."_

"Oh, _god_ no..."

_"Cut the drama, Peter. There's air inside."_

"I...I didn't..."

_"I can't handle you acting like a child every time some woman you screwed over shows her face. I can't stand when one of your own stupid past decisions rears its ugly head and you disappear!"_

She held the sides of her head to try to quiet her own quotations tormenting her.

Everything she said.

How _could_ she?

Peter was going through all of that, and she had yelled at him. She had said the most merciless, inappropriate things while he was struggling to regain contentment after being reminded of one of his worst childhood memories, and she had scolded him like he was a baby, as though _he_ was in the wrong.

She choked on the sob she had been holding back.

_"Cut the drama, Peter."_

The guilt was eating her alive. She felt lower than after any of her brutal crimes under Thanos' order. She felt like she had stabbed her sword into Peter's flesh where she intended to do so to his assailant. She felt like she had purposely set him on fire back on their ship, pressed an infinity stone into his palm, shoved his head tight underwater until the bubbles ceased.

Gamora felt as though _she_ had been the one to violate and harm him all those years ago, rationally understanding that wasn't the case.

She had to attack this woman. This sick stranger's blood had to drain, and Gamora had to prove she _did_ care about Peter, that everything she said was wrong, as redemption for her cruel words...

"GAMORA, PLEASE!"

His persistence and desperation broke through to her.

This wasn't helping. This wasn't what he needed.

He was managing his own anxiety, and now _feeling guilty for opening up to her_.

The last thing Peter needed was to have a second panic attack while frantically begging her not to do something that could ruin their lives. The last thing he needed was to go crazy with worry as she was hauled off to prison, to be left alone and stressed after an already terrible day. The last thing he needed was for his personal secrets to be revealed in front of their entire team against his will, as Gamora no doubt would be unable to keep her motivation from being spoken as she finished off that creep. It wouldn't help to destroy everyone else's good time, to traumatize little Groot, to make them all seem like sociopaths in the eyes of the public.

Peter didn't need or want revenge.

Revenge wouldn't change the past. Revenge wouldn't erase Gamora's words.

Although she desired to kill that bitch possibly more than her own sister wanted to kill their abuser, she couldn't.

For once that ridiculous human was being sensible, and she _had_ to accept that.

So Gamora relented.

"UGGGHHHHH!!!" She let out a blood-curdling scream and nearly snapped her weapon in two. A sound so loud it roused the attention from wanderers, and caused Peter to look up from his hands in fear, unaware this was a cry of pure, agonizing frustration at her inability to _do anything_.

The galaxy-known warrior grasped her sword and passionately stabbed it into the ground to possibly never be pulled out, and shook with self-hatred, fury directed at the server who she had officially decided not to harm today, and waves of empathy for the man she'd almost hurt even more.

She continued shaking and allowing her face to become wet as she made the awkward walk back to Peter's chosen seat. He looked up at her with a world of relief, still nervous if she had fully come around.

"Peter..." she said in a thick voice. "I am _SO_ sorry."

"It's alright," he sighed. "I'd be the same way. Just don't--"

"I won't," she begrudgingly assured. "But...everything I said, before I knew..."

"You _didn't_ know. How could you have known?"

"If I had _listened_ ," she began, but Peter was already shaking his head.

"I didn't _want_ you to know."

Gamora remained silent. She wouldn't take offense. This was so different from when he revealed about the loss of his mother when they were practically strangers. It wasn't on the same level as Peter drunkenly telling her he used to pretend his father was a singing icon, or volunteering stories about the rough times Yondu and the Ravagers put him through growing up. This wasn't just painful.

This _humiliated_ him.

 _'Nobody would judge you for this. Our friends know that is morally repugnant. They would never mock...'_ she decided against voicing. If Peter didn't want _her_ to know about this part of his past, who he told all his intimate secrets, it was obvious he didn't want anyone to know. His reaction would only be to emphasize that, and rather than send him into another exhausting fit of begging for her to respect his wishes, maybe she should simply shut up.

"What do you want to do?" she asked shakily, handing him the reins. It was so alien to her, not being in control of a situation, but in this case Peter deserved whatever made him comfortable. "Do you want to eat somewhere else? Go back home--err, _The Milano_?" she suggested, berating herself for being the reason they couldn't return to their main ship.

The man only shook his head, looking uneasy yet relaxed at the same time, similar to when she had found him after his attack. "I'm not hungry," he said, relieved that their fight, her jealousy, and any fear she would murder that woman in cold blood were all behind them, and he could focus on clearing his head. "I'll eat tomorrow, I promise," he reassured when Gamora looked concerned. "I'm okay, I--I just--not tonight." He was close to suggesting she not starve on his behalf, but was not about to send her back into the same eatery after she had finally cooled down.

The term "helpless" was insufficient in describing how Gamora felt. No dinner, no revenge, no plan to pressure Peter into talking, her next movement was any being's guess.

Despite the jagged edges of the stone that had to be tearing into his pants, he appeared comfortable, eyes closed and face toward the suns. She hated to abandon him, but knew earlier he wanted--

"Do you want to be alone?"

He contemplated, and slowly shook his head again. He didn't know what he wanted right then, but it wasn't for Gamora to walk away from him.

She nodded and strode around to the empty space on the flat rock to sit next to him. Before she could think of another question she was met with a black earbud being offered to her, and she naturally gave what she hoped was an appropriate smile as she placed it in her left ear.

He smiled at her acceptance, and at a complete loss of what else to do, she outstretched her arms in his direction.

 _'A hug won't make this better!'_ her mind scolded. _'A hug can't erase what you said! Remember, he doesn't want to be touched right now! Stop it before you make this worse, you insensitive--'_ she continued her internal chastising, unaware when Peter rested his head on her shoulder, maneuvering the cords around their bodies as he melted into her embrace.

Her eyes watered again, as she let out a sigh and gently hugged back.

"I'm so sorry..." she whispered at the end of the third verse.

"Shut up," he mumbled teasingly, while they let the repetitive words of the song distract them from the world.

 

**********

 

"What does it mean? The day the music died?"

The words were said without the inquisitor looking at the human beside her, owner and expert of the tunes they were sharing.

It was the third time she'd heard the line recited, and its possible significance was nagging at her thoughts. It somehow transcended the fact that both of their minds were clearly elsewhere. She couldn't think of another way to begin any further conversation.

"I guess..." Peter spoke up, his tone distant. Faraway. Lost. Gamora realized she would have given nearly anything to obtain Mantis' powers and know what he was feeling, what was going on in his head. "It means when people stop...appreciating it. Or learning from it? Or...use music to do...bad things," he finished his own interpretation, also without looking at the person he was answering.

Their awkward public cuddle had eventually switched back into sitting up straight. They had wordlessly decided that perhaps the music and each other's company were all they needed, nothing but faint breeze and folk rock filling their ears in the otherwise understood silence. The foreign atmosphere would need to be sliced with Godslayer, which was currently pierced through the ground, surrounded by shadows and a fractured path.

Life was funny. Minutes prior Gamora was on a bloodthirsty high that only her love for Peter could both cause and talk her down from, and now they were simply waiting, pondering, in Peter's case remembering, while their friends continued to laugh and enjoy their social lubricant much like the "good old boys" in the song, oblivious to everything else. The former "Daughter of Thanos" couldn't pinpoint when her emotions had become so complicated.

The Terran rolled his forehead onto her shoulder, their first contact since their hug ended. It shouldn't have surprised her. There were enough surprises this day.

"What were you trying to cook?" he mumbled, and Gamora thought she felt a tiny smile against her clothes, as though her guilt over her despicable, vulgar chastising during their fight had yet subsided.

As though there weren't heavier, more painful subjects weighing on their hearts.

"It doesn't matter," she answered, just as when Kraglin and Groot had asked, her eyes facing the gravel. Peter removed his head with a playful sigh, and resumed staring at the nearby chain link fence.

There was no anger in their minimal communication, and Gamora would _not_ push him to talk about _anything_.

Some things didn't need to be spoken. They were aware of this fact, but she did need to be sure he knew one thing.

"Peter," she breathed, and saw him tense, the same lyric about the death of music playing without either paying attention. "Nothing could...nothing you say could ever make me see you differently."

She would not have blamed Peter an ounce for not wanting to give more information on what happened. He hadn't thought about it in fifteen years, and it was only because of her that he was thinking about it today.

However, if there was ever a time he felt compelled, while it was impossible to shake from his mind, while they were alone and couldn't go home, and she was willing to listen and do anything conceivable to comfort, to be there for him like she always had been before her most recent setback...

She needed to make that statement and hope to all galaxies it was true, feeling terrible for her own doubts.

"We were on Contraxia."

It was a hair above a whisper, and she turned her head to see Peter looking afraid, summoning the strength to really do this, to revisit this confession with more backstory. He was removing his earbud while the singer was once again saying goodbye to the titular heroine, bringing Gamora's down with him, causing the cords to become tangled in his lap.

"...who?" she whispered back, frightened of the answers she practically requested.

A deep breath, glistening eyes, and a large gulp. "Me and Yondu."

Gamora nodded, suddenly uncertain that she wanted to hear where this story was going, but she couldn't ask him to stop now. After telling him he could open up, retracting that offer would be crueler than the most violent act she had ever performed.

He finally looked at her, and in their own unspoken language made clear that he would only explain if she promised not to embark on another rampage.

And amazed that he trusted her, she mentally, as Peter would say, _'got her ass into gear'_ and made the unspoken promise. He got the message, expressed his gratitude, and held a few of her fingers.

"I was a really stupid kid," he mournfully said with a weak laugh. "Anyway...Yondu rarely took me on outings, just the two of us, in those days. Not unless he had use for me, something for me to steal." Gamora was listening attentively. The Zune was resting on Peter's knee in their view. "I enjoyed it. Going outside, getting out of that grimey ship," he said, holding back a joke about how filthy he kept his own space vehicle. "I appreciated the fresh air, the sunlight, not that Contraxia is especially known for either."

Peter cleared his throat and actually looked okay, but that only made the Zehoberei more uneasy. He was drawing out the beginning. "It was a nice day, the weather and all. Though most of Yondu's errands were _boring_. He always barked for me to _stay_ with him and _not_ wander off, but with my excitement at having some freedom, and obsession with pissing him off, surprise surprise, of course I wandered off!" The storyteller gave another humorless laugh, before recalling something that caused a real one. "Haha, I remember him saying...that if I ever ran away like that again, he would put me on a leash or have me microchipped. Heh heh, I'm... _pretty_ sure he only followed through on one of those threats," Peter said with a giggle, pretending to be suspicious about possible implants in his brain.

Since Yondu's sacrifice, Peter had developed a habit of essentially... _laughing_ through is grief, constantly telling stories that he and Kraglin found the funniest from his youth. It was a coping mechanism Gamora fully supported and encouraged. Whenever Peter was close to tears, angry over the lost time with the man who raised him as a son, or plain moody at the breakfast table, Gamora would ask him to _'tell us a story'_ and he was usually brightening up in minutes, as well as respectfully entertaining their whole family in the process.

She knew he was doing that now, cracking jokes and remembering the good times to distract from how horrible this story was, but Gamora couldn't find any amusement this time.

"Ahem. I convinced myself I could remember where Yondu's meet-up was taking place and find him again later. So wandered off like an idiot to go exploring." His calm tone switched into a bitter, self-loathing one in a matter of seconds. "He told me to _stay_ , I should have _listened_! Why didn't I listen? I _had_ to disobey like a dumbass kid! So, so stupid..." he muttered the insult. Gamora wished he would stop calling himself that, though didn't risk interrupting for fear it would make him stop talking altogether.

Peter composed himself and flashed her an apologetic grin. "The streets were busy, but not annoying crowded. I was having fun observing the different species instead of the usual Ravagers, and the landscape wasn't hard on the eyes either. I was skipping to music on my Walkman, _Redbone_ I'm pretty sure, squeaking out lyrics as I made a game out of which stones I could hop over." Gamora suppressed a smile at the adorable image of a miniature Peter dancing to the same device he treasured all the way into adulthood. "A gust of wind came along, and while bobbing and swaying my head, my headphones fell off, and one of the orange foam coverings blew away into the mud under...a white chain link fence."

Gamora exhaled, and stared ahead at the silver fence in the distance of the field.

"I muttered the latest curse I'd learned on _The Eclector_ and tried to crawl underneath it. I had a lot of practice. Skinny, good for thievin'," he quipped. "I barely got my hand under to grab it when someone else picked it up and gave it to me through a hole." He turned to look at Gamora. "Yes, it was her," he confirmed so she wasn't left piecing together a puzzle. She solemnly nodded again. "Turns out I had skipped all the way to a residential area, and behind the fence was a small house. Her house."

It was so quiet, and the assassin wanted him to finish already, but remained patient, hand against her hair and nervously twisting it.

"A light violet, partially tattooed hand passed me the ear pad and I thanked her. She was just as homely as now, but obviously younger, and taller, and...friendly," he said with an embarrassed shrug and a sigh. "I said thank you, and instead of saying 'you're welcome' and returning to what looked like a fairy tale cottage, she smiled wide and...kept talking to me. Said she had been watching me out her window, saw me dancing and singing along to whatever alien music that was. Said that she also loved music, how it was a rare gift to see a child appreciate it, asked me questions about what a strange instrument my Walkman was. I happily informed her that it wasn't an instrument, but a tool for listening to music wherever you go, and she acted like that was incredible. When she asked the type of music, where I was from, I just said from Earth, dodging any other questions. I wasn't supposed to discuss Ravager topics with anybody."

"And when I was about to wave goodbye she noticed me wipe my dirty foam piece on my coat, and said that she might have something inside to clean it without ruining it. I was skeptical, about to say that I had to leave, but she also said we could listen to music, and offered me something to eat, and mentioned she might even have some extra batteries that fit my foreign, portable music player." Peter suddenly laughed, realizing a connection. "Ha, batteries always getting us into trouble, aren't they?" Gamora didn't laugh or respond. It was the last joke he would make for the duration of the story.

"I didn't know why she was being so nice to me, but...I said 'Okay' and followed her, around the fence to her front door." _'Dumb move,'_ he didn't say out loud. He knew such comments were bothering Gamora. "When she asked my name, I considered answering 'Star-Lord' but...I didn't _feel_ like a Ravager talking to her. I...felt like a human kid again," he confessed. "So I said 'Peter.' I thought I was being impolite not asking her name, but she was babbling on about my name being 'cute.' She called me cute a _lot_ ," he remembered, now understanding there was no flattery in it.

"The house was...not what I expected. I only made it to one room. It was cramped and freezing. There were broken bottles all along the mantle, weird carvings in the wall," he described, and Gamora couldn't help but note that for an event that was "no big deal" Peter remembered a lot of detail.

"Her husband walked in, and she immediately looked irritated. He was fat and ugly, and really high on _something_ , smelling foul. The second he saw me he started complaining to her about 'bringing home another one', and she scolded him for 'being rude to a guest.' I felt uneasy, knew then something was... _off_ , but was kinda frozen, confused. He stumbled out of the room with a smoking tube saying he wasn't in the mood for this, and she just smiled back at me and shouted loud enough for him to hear, 'it's his loss not joining in on the fun!' Eww," Peter expressed in retrospect, aware it was what Gamora was thinking.

"I tried to say I needed to return to my...someone, but I couldn't say Yondu's name. She told me 'nonsense' and shoved me in the chest onto the hard sofa, saying she would be right back." The leader of the Guardians was growing more uncomfortable, and Gamora was dreading the rest. There were birds making noises in the sky above them, but both were deaf to anything but this story.

"I heard them bickering in the kitchen, her threatening him not to ruin this for her, and he just went back to mocking and coughing. I was eyeing the door handle, fidgeting with my Walkman, and she strode back in with a fake chipper expression, apologizing for her husband's behavior and handing me a semi-clean wipe for my foam ear pad. I said thanks, but didn't use it. She suddenly remembered that she promised me music, and flicked on something...very non-musical, but I didn't wanna be rude insulting her preference. Fortunately she never did give me any food. I'm pretty certain I _would_ have been drugged..."

He sighed, and persuaded himself to get to the point. "I kept looking for a clock, imagining what Yondu was doing. I nervously said that I couldn't stay long, and she bounced onto the cushion next to me, and said in return for her hospitality it was only fair for me to indulge her in a game. And that anyone who appreciated fine music would appreciate something this mature, too...right?"

A deep, shuddering, painful breath. He had never talked about this. How much should he even fucking say?

"I guess I kinda gave away the rest?" he began, and Gamora braced herself for the part she had been dreading, looking at him with sympathy. He didn't look at her at all. "She pushed me to lie down on the couch, sat on my ankles, told me to relax, and...yanked down my pants..." he said the last four words in an embarrassed rush and squeezed his eyes closed, swallowed his pride. He crossed his legs, squirming in his seat.

Gamora bit her tongue, resisted the impulse to break her promise and steal Peter's pistol from its holster to put a bullet in that waitress's mouth. "It is mostly a blur," he continued honestly. "I yelled for her to stop it, knock it off, louder each time, but her demeanor did a complete 180, and her face was...mean. Furious. She told me to stop hitting or screaming or _else_ , and I was afraid she would literally...strangle me, or--or cut me, or hurt me _somehow_ if I didn't obey, so at some point I...gave up fighting and just laid there and let her...grab...and...rub--"

The warrior's body modifications helped regulate her rising blood pressure, though could do nothing for her shattering heart as Peter summarized his assault. There were tears shining in her eyes; she willed to bury her head into his neck, but instead shielded her face with her own hands. Peter paused several times, respectful of Gamora's discomfort. She hated every word she was hearing, hated the pictures in her brain, hated the concept of an innocent child, of the person she _loved_ , kicking and fighting before becoming compliant while being cruelly violated. She was fuming at the very idea of Peter being used as a toy, a play thing, a disposable object for a predator's sick pleasures, her husband ignoring the crime taking place and perceiving it as a boring hobby while a nine-year-old was being hurt physically and mentally. Listening to Peter's voice tremble more than when he told her any childhood memory made her want to throw up everything she had eaten the past year, and she didn't know how much more of this she could take.

But the least she owed Peter was to let him finish.

"I-I-I--...I was just thinking about... _good_ music...trying not--not to let it bother me--try-trying to-t-t-to be a-a-a...a brave Ravager, trying to think of howto-t-t-o escape later...a-a-a-a-anything to...distract. Thinking about my mo--mom..." he revealed, and coughed hard to pull himself together and speak clearly. If Gamora had a second heart, it was shattering, too.

"Ahem! It... _really_ didn't last long," he resumed downplaying the scene. "Fi--five minutes, tops? It felt longer then, but...I know it could've been much worse, I know she...wanted more...anyway, ahem. Eventually cops--police--gah, authorities! Authorizes barged in the back door over some drug bust, and she let go of me and ran to the kitchen, and I scrambled to pull up my pants and underwear, grab my Walkman, and fucking run out the front door," he said, and then sighed, relieved to have concluded the worst of it. Gamora wordlessly asked permission to touch his shoulder, and he granted it with a nod.

"I don't think I _ever_ ran back to Yondu so fast in my life," he said with a dry laugh. "I was a speed demon, darting down the streets, brushing past fifty or sixty people, holding onto my zipper and button, looking over my shoulder the farther I got away from _that house_."

_It felt like everyone knew._

"My memory was fuzzy, but I remembered the direction and shape of the building for Yondu's appointment, hoping he was still there. I burst through the doors of the old shack, and the back of Yondu's head was the most wonderful sight. I grabbed onto his legs, and he whipped around and kicked me off. I saw a...a hint of relief on his face, before he screamed at me for running off, about to go into a larger tirade when he...paused. I...I guess he noticed that one of my socks was missing? That my shirt was ripped, my Walkman scratched? That I was shaking." The moment played so differently in his mind now, knowing the complexities of Yondu's heart. "He finished his deal and dragged me back to the ship. He didn't say a word the entire journey, and when we stepped back onto _The Eclector_ he gave me dinner and threw me in my room and left me alone." Gamora looked at him sadly, and Peter reassured, "Hey, I had seen him before when he was _really_ pissed, when he wanted to tear my hide off, so I...I got off lucky that night."

Gamora didn't look convinced that this was lucky, but an obvious step-up from his earlier treatment.

"The shaking didn't stop once I was alone, it was just mixed with...confusion, and tears, and anger. A lotta angry, confused tears," he confessed. "Angry at _her_. Mostly angry at myself," he said in a hushed tone. "Envisioning how my day woulda been different, maybe even cool, if I had listened to Yondu." He remembered pacing in circles around that tiny Ravager bunk, his fear and anger only on equal level with his abduction. "I was so angry I almost smashed my Walkman that night," he whispered in shame. "It felt like the cause of all this, and I was ready to just... _throw it_...let it shatter to pieces for clouding my judgment, get rid of it!" Peter shouted like he was that same kid again.

The tears were spilling out of Gamora's eyes every time she blinked; tears she thought had already passed couldn't cease falling.

"I fucking chilled enough to remember where that Walkman came from. What it meant to me, how much I would miss it if it was gone the next day. So instead I...switched between sulking and crying and more sulking 'til I fell asleep."

The tension eased a little as the worst of his recap ended, and before delving into the aftermath he glanced again at the Zune, thinking about the twenty-five more years he had with that Walkman. How it was eventually crushed for real by a monster, again because of his own poor judgment.

"I suppose it's apparent I never told anyone. Yondu left me to sulk alone for two or three days, but after that it was...around-the-clock training for weeks. Yondu made it clear in no uncertain terms that he was gonna teach me how to fight. It was no picnic, I loathed his methods, but I understand why now. And it _did_ serve as a decent distraction, a way to blow off steam," he admitted with a shrug, and Gamora noticed that he didn't seem to have another sentence prepared.

She waved her hand to get his attention, and he looked at her before she spoke up, her throat dry from crying and silently listening for what felt like an eternity. "Do you think Yondu ever found out?" she whispered.

"No," Peter immediately said. "She's still alive."

Gamora was stunned at how swiftly and certainly Peter answered. She would need to grow used to him viewing Yondu as a caring parent who was extraordinarily protective of his boy, and would have hunted down this pervert to whistle a glowing arrow through her skull. It was a huge contrast from the more complicated relationship Peter would describe in the months before Ego.

Technically, this woman was still alive despite _Gamora_ knowing of her sick deed, but she realized Yondu hadn't been privileged with a rational voice to talk him down from such revenge quests.

"It wasn't the warmest environment. I already thought the other Ravagers wanted me as their entree. I was scared, didn't know if I'd be in trouble. I _still_ doubt most of them would've cared." He saw Gamora ready to disagree and elaborated. "Kraglin and I weren't close back then. He mostly saw me as a nuisance, and when we did talk...by the time we had any chance alone, several months had passed, I wasn't thinking about it much anymore. So many adventures and missions and fraud gigs, fighting and flying and shooting lessons. Time really did soar. I...considered mentioning it to Krag, but..." _I was embarrassed._ "I didn't even know _how_ to explain it. I only knew I didn't like it, not _what_ it was. I didn't learn that 'til I was a teen, and by then I was over it. Well, I _thought_ I had...recovered," he said, wincing at the memory of the afternoon's episode.

Maybe telling Gamora did melt away some of the power it held after so many years settled and buried.

"In a way the experience taught me to be less trusting, toughened me up," he said, as if there was any positive outcome to this atrocity. "I was naive and dumb, despite _living with criminals_. I suppose it was the pivotal moment I understood when Yondu told me a safety rule, I should fucking listen. I learned not everyone is what they seem, not everyone is nice, not everyone can or should be trusted. I grew up."

Regardless of the truth in his words, Gamora was in awe that Peter _was_ still so trusting. He trusted her enough to view her worthy of protection in prison when all they knew about each other was their criminal backgrounds. He trusted their friends when, well, in his words, _'Five seconds after you meet somebody you're already tryin' to kill 'em!'_.

He trusted her with his most intimate secrets after she had misjudged them so harshly.

Peter may have become stronger, tougher, smarter, and braver than when he was ten-years-old, but he was more trusting than he had any right to be.

"Ya know, before you and our freak show of friends trapped me under your spell," he joked, and she smiled that he was having near identical thoughts. "Yondu was a good judge of character." _Err, Ego notwithstanding._ "He taught me to be similar," he said fondly, and then sighed. "I've been really dramatic about this today. An hour ago at the bar was the first I--I'd seen her since--"

"You aren't being overdramatic," Gamora insisted.

 _'Cut the drama, Peter,'_ rang inside her head, and the guilt was re-invited into her conscience.

"I wanna make clear, want you to know, this _wasn't_...ongoing abuse. It was _one_ time. No Ravagers _ever_...I promise, honest."

"Good," she said softly. She had never assumed, but after today, it was best to disconfirm her horrible suspicions.

"And I know it doesn't hold a candle to what you, a--and Nebula, and others have been through. She wasn't Thanos--"

"So _what?_ " asked the Titan's former living weapon, disturbed by the comparison. "It's not a contest, Peter. That was _terrible_. Beyond terrible. Awful. _Wrong._ I--" she tried to control her tone, not wanting give the impression that she was angry at Peter; she was angry at his limited sense of self-worth.

"I know, I know, but...you would've had better survival skills..."

"You were a _kid_ ," she reminded.

"I was _nine_ , not three. I knew better than to walk into a stranger's house."

"Peter," she stopped him, and decided on a different approach, while his head hung low and he stared at his lap. "I _know_ you. I know your morals, your values, sense of right and wrong."

"What does that have to do with--?" he whispered confused.

"If you saw or heard about this happening to any other child, girl or boy, no matter the age, no matter their behavior, intelligence, or poor decisions leading up to the crime, you would be outraged and never blame the child victim."

"Of course not," he said, barely audible.

"You're not different. You matter as much as anyone else; you mattered at that age. To say or think otherwise is to let her off the hook." Gamora lacked the confidence to be sure she had chosen the correct argument. She never claimed to be a counselor. She was skilled in combat, not psychological healing.

"I know," he replied, and didn't sound like he was agreeing for the sake of it. He believed her, knew she was correct. "You're right, but I--it feels different. I was a dumb kid, but not ordinarily _that_ reckless. I don't know why I did that--well, I know _why_ I was drawn to her, but it's not an excuse. It's stupid, I--" He gnawed on his inner cheek, and Gamora raised an eyebrow, welcoming him to share this part if he chose.

Peter took another deep breath, like this confession might actually be worse. "It had been almost a year and half since--since I left Earth, and I was getting used to living without...my mom," he said more clearly than he thought possible. His eyes shone similar to on Knowhere. Similar to when he opened his letter and second mixtape twenty-six years late, to when he was saying goodbye to his adoptive father.

"It grew easier, but I still missed her like mad. Plus there were no...'maternal figures' aboard the Ravager home, a--and I suppose I maybe...yearned for one again. On--on Earth she...I--I mean, I had my grandfather, a--and some friends at school, but my mom was...my whole world," he said without a hint of embarrassment. "Seconds after I lost her I was...sorta thrown into a... _harsher_ group. I--I adjusted, but--" Now he looked embarrassed, confessing weakness, but Gamora expressed no judgment. She always knew the juxtaposition of being perpetually happy and coddled by his mother to being tossed among a rough gang of criminals had screwed with him a little, despite being one of the strongest children available for the challenge.

"I wasn't _searching_ for anyone, but...randomly meeting a woman who seemed...nice. She was young, and said she loved music, loved kids..." he explained, and Gamora made the connection.

_Oh no._

_Of course._

"I _wasn't_..." he crumbled, and Gamora realized that this was the first time he'd cried throughout this entire story. He had never looked more broken, more vulnerable. His face fell into his hands. "I wasn't, I swear...I--I promise I wasn't..."

"Weren't what?" she asked quietly, hesitantly touching his knee.

"I wasn't trying to replace her!" he said once he looked back up from his hands. "It-it wasn't like that, I _never_...no one ever could, I...even if she wasn't...a fucking monster, if she wasn't evil, she wasn't my mom, I wasn't trying to..." he repeated through sobs, doubting his nine-year-old self's subconscious motivations, the guilt over that possibility more painful than recollecting the assault itself, as though the very concept was a greater sin than the sexual crime committed. "I wasn't..."

"I know," Gamora said, her voice shaking, horrified at her next thought. "Peter, you don't...you didn't...did you think that you somehow... _deserved_ that because you were betraying your mother?" she asked, her concern rising when he delayed answering.

"N--no...no...no. I mean, maybe as a kid, for a while I thought--but not now, no. But--"

"You _didn't_ ," she instantly stated, and to hell with not being a therapist, Thanos himself couldn't have stopped her from grabbing and engulfing Peter in a hug. If it was the wrong move he had full permission to shove her away, but she was very grateful he accepted it, softly crying into her shoulder. "You didn't deserve it, Peter." Her tone was hushed. "I--I know nothing I say can change what you may have believed for two decades, but you didn't. Ever."

She couldn't believe she was ever jealous of this sick woman. She was again _livid_ at his assailant, at the cruelty in taking advantage of a grieving little boy still adapting to the loss of his parent whom he loved more than life, allowing his underdeveloped brain to compare her to the sweet parent he worshipped, before the stranger revealed her true colors and left permanent scars. "Your mother would never blame you, and wouldn't think you were trying to replace her," she said like the notion was ridiculous, and he only sniffled in response.

Gamora may have never met Meredith Quill in the flesh, but was certain that if she was alive to hear of this event, she would be equally hungry to punish this scumbag for touching her son.

The cries subsided and Peter withdrew from her arms, and Gamora continued saying the same cliched fact. "It wasn't your fault. She preyed on you the moment she saw you out her window."

"I know," he said, wiping the snot from his nose, embarrassed in retrospect for falling for those manipulation tactics. Just as he fell for his biological father's manipulation ploy as a grown man.

"I cannot take back what I said outside the restaurant. But assuming you have forgiven me, it is your turn to listen. It was _not_ your fault," she said definitively. The Terran's nod and small smile as he stretched and dried his eyes on his jacket sleeve communicated that she was indeed forgiven.

He finished composing himself and retrieved the Zune from where it had toppled off his knee onto the ground, dusting it off and relieved it still worked fine.

"I needed to hear that. I didn't know until now," he whispered. "Not that I think about it often. It wasn't the biggest crap storm in my life. That's not downplaying--" he said before she could interrupt. "It's the truth. It uniquely sucked on varying gross, humiliating, fucked-up levels, but it wasn't the same obstacle as...shit with Yondu, or living the life of an outlaw," he joked, and Gamora understood. "I wasn't trying to keep major secrets. Even if I had thought about it since we met, I didn't want you to know. I--I...I didn't want you to see me as..."

 _'As what?'_ Gamora wordlessly pondered. _Damaged? Pathetic? A helpless victim to be pitied?_

Perhaps he didn't want her to deem it the reason for his past womanizing, flirtatious conduct, rather than because of his natural attractive appearance, charisma, and coercion skills, and because he was raised in an environment of men who behaved the same.

Perhaps he was concerned she would truly confuse this five-minute event for the heavier grief and trauma of watching his mother die, and never knowing how much the captain who raised him cared until his untimely death.

Perhaps he feared she would no longer view him as a capable and strong leader, someone worthy of being in a relationship, the same Terran who stole her heart with a dance and a grin.

All of the above were crazy. Gamora couldn't decide which was silliest.

Peter's most recent breakdown was proof that Ego committed the greatest crime against him in taking his mother away. This woman presumably still waiting tables in that building had lessened Peter's self-esteem, and added an ugly blotch on his list of painful memories, but she did not create him or change him. He still loved music, he still loved adventure, he still loved his mother. His personality was entirely shaped by the people he loved and surrounded himself, and not by a greedy, rapacious couple who once lived behind a chain link fence on Contraxia.

"I won't put unnecessary weight on this. You should not compare it to other people's trauma, but I understand it did not define you," Gamora stated firmly. "Nevertheless...I'm sorry that it happened. And I'm sorry you couldn't tell anyone then, and that you were forced to look at her today."

"Thank you," Peter whispered, amazed that this conversation wasn't a dream, and he and Gamora were somehow still in a good place.

"But, Peter. We can do _something_ ," she said, and the human looked momentarily worried that she was revisiting her plans to slaughter the woman in front of an audience. "Not...vigilante-style something," she reassured, despite the lingering temptation. "I mean practically. Legally. Anonymously," she suggested. "We can make a report, a call, an anonymous tip line that we have reason to suspect a child molester working in that junky eatery. They won't know it came from us, that she victimized _you_ ," Gamora explained. Peter was too afraid and uninformed to tell police as a child, and couldn't risk exposing the Ravager clan. Now things were different. "We have a responsibility to do that much, don't you think?" she asked softly, not wanting to pressure him, but unable to shake the feeling that they couldn't simply walk away.

They didn't know if this woman had already served prison time and been rehabilitated, if she was never caught but also hadn't touched a child in decades, or if she had hurt three more children last week. All Gamora knew was that they couldn't call themselves heroes, defenders of the galaxy, without doing the bare minimum in this delicate situation.

"Okay," Peter agreed, nodding at the ground. "You're right. Soon. Uhh, tomorrow..."

"Soon," Gamora said, his agreement enough for her. She took his hand, brushing the toe of her boot around in the dirt and gazing out at the field, until Peter clearing his throat caught her attention.

"Uhhh...can we..." he began voicing his wild idea. "...change the damn subject?" he asked, exhausted from taking on the role of spokesperson for a public service announcement.

Gamora gave an indulgent smile. "Of course," she said. It felt like they had talked for hours, but she knew they had plenty more time before their family ended their meal and drinking binge.

The Terran and his girlfriend eyed the Zune in his other palm, thinking of how to pass the remaining time. He rested his head on her shoulder and untwisted the cords.

"You probably thought you would gain all the sympathy points today for your accidental fire, huh?"

She almost snorted a laugh and rolled her eyes.

"Mmm-hmm. Sure, Peter."

 

**********

 

"This...is the longest song...I have ever heard."

The Zehoberei warrior felt a human cheek inflate against the side of her cranium in what she knew was a wide grin. "I know."

The couple didn't know when they'd decided to remain on the ground. It happened sometime after they'd slid off the stone and landed there.

Starting the song from the beginning again, they had considered taking a walk, going back to _The Milano_ to call their friends later, and several other options to kill time.

Moving far did not seem necessary, however, and Peter and Gamora were both content to stare up at the suns being covered by clouds and lean against each other, their legs stretching opposite directions and heads pressed together ear-to-ear. Her hair a disarrayed mess and silver scars glistening in the sun, his skin freckling rapidly, they became lost in meaningless chatter and comfortable in their relaxation, not giving a damn about any sentient beings with eyes witnessing their strange position.

There was an air of seriousness around them, but much more serene and soothing than before their conversation.

Gamora thoroughly enjoyed the song, regardless of her jokes about its ridiculous length. There were lines about teaching people to dance, generations lost in space, and single events changing the world. There were references to individuals she assumed were historic figures on Earth, although if she asked Peter he would have admitted that he had forgotten much of what his mother explained involving the real people named. He merely respected it as a classic, beautiful, gloriously _long_ song.

"Rocket's gonna be pissed that we're camping out here if there's any credit problems," he said.

Gamora moved her eyes sideways. "Are you expecting there to be any credit problems?" she questioned in response to his random statement.

"...nooo..." he answered suspiciously, and spun the Zune cord around his index finger, crossing his eyes to view the device on his chest.

The silence resumed, until a minute later Gamora chose to break it with one word.

"Stralemy."

Peter quirked an eyebrow. "Gesundheit?"

She sighed, recognizing the odd word as one he used to express confusion. "You all have asked me what I was trying to cook. That's it. Stralemy." She removed her earbud, and continued staring at the winged-animals soaring above.

"Uhhh..." Peter remained baffled at her earnest confession. Was he supposed to know this cuisine?

"I purchased the recipe and ingredients weeks prior from a company that claimed to know the basics of popular Earth foods. I didn't have the supplies for red sauce, but--"

"...do you mean...'spaghetti'...?"

"Yes. That. The noodle thing," she confirmed the human's best guess with a nod, and Peter bit his tongue in amusement.

 _'Zardu Hasselfrau,'_ his mind recalled.

"You told me once that it was your favorite food your mother used to cook, and how you craved it in the first years after Yondu abducted--err, _picked you up_ ," she quickly corrected herself, not wanting to use the term "abduct" lightly after the story she'd just learned. "My first time cooking supper, I wanted to create something special for you." She lifted her head to rest in her hand, her elbow pressed into the dirt. "I thought you deserved a Terran dish after so long. It was...intended to be a surprise," she said softly.

Peter raised his head as well, looking at her in awe with a twinkle in his eyes.

 _"Really?"_ he said, like that was the _sweetest_ thing he'd ever heard.

"Yes," she said with another disappointed sigh. "I did not expect to replicate your mother's, but I did think with Drax's help it would turn out halfway decent. It didn't _work_ , obviously..." she trailed off, embarrassed. They had both gone with _no_ dinner, because she had failed to follow simple instructions and properly _boil water_ , resulting in Peter encountering someone he never should have had to face again, while everyone else was stuffing their mouths--

Her thoughts were cut off at the sound of muffled... _giggling_?

She would have speculated it to be from the children across the street, if it wasn't distinctly Peter's laugh, coming from right next to her ear.

Leaning over his body, she saw his head back down in the dirt, eyes closed and chuckling.

"What...is so funny?" she asked in pure bewilderment.

"Hehehehe...every...hahaha everything!" he answered through what became uncontrollable laughter, covering his face and shaking under his hands. Gamora was at a loss as to what was happening, staring at him break up after a day where "everything" couldn't be accurately described as "funny."

"We're...hahahahaha...oh god...we're hiding out..." he tried to say through gasps of breath. "We're hiding out here away from some nutcase who kidnapped me twenty-five d'ast hahahahaa...da'asted years agohohohoo...while everyone else is fine and dandy, because we neeheheheehahahahaha...needed to avoid the residual smoke from your burnt noodles!" he managed to complete the sentence, and Gamora was still starting at him, wondering if she should be concerned for his mental health.

"And...hahahahaha! And Rocket's in there draining my bank account because I was dense and thought that bomb-obsessed rodent was the only one to start fires, but I was wrong!" he declared and fell into hysterics again, uncovering his face and rolling onto his side. "I overestimated my badass girlfriend being perfect at everything! Nope! The Deadliest Woman in the Galaxy tried to make me spaghetti and overheated the ehehehe easiest dish!" He fell into another fit of giggles, and his earbud popped out. His eyes were beginning to water, his face turning red, and stomach painfully constricting, but he couldn't stop.

"Peheheter," Gamora attempted to scold, tried to sound annoyed at the way he was carrying on partially at her expense, but found herself laughing softly, too. He had suppressed his amusement to spare her feelings while the rest of the team had relentlessly teased, and somehow after the heaviest of conversations and worst days, he earned the right to get it out of his system.

"It's all so ridiculous! How does that happen?!" he squeaked out in a high-pitched voice, barely comprehensible through the cackling. He was laughing harder than whenever she had him pinned down in a tickle attack, louder than after his most immature prank against Rocket, more than whenever he and Kraglin shared "the most insane story" about their old adventures with Yondu. She was starting to think his laughter could be heard all the way from the restaurant.

"We are NEVER going to Italy," he joked and broke down again after seconds of sobering up, as though Gamora would know the country, as though he talked about any place on Earth besides little old Missouri. "You would be a disgrahahahaace..."

She rolled her eyes and bit her lip. "I get it," she with a small laugh, surprised he was still laughing that hard and consistently without losing consciousness. She would have slugged him under any other circumstances.

"Of course that creheheep is now a dumbass waitress in a shitty place like thahahat," he spit out, and Gamora was taken aback that he was able to find humor in _that_ part. "Drax and Rocket have gotten us kicked out of almost every bar in the gahahahalaxy!' He threw his head back and snorted. "She landed a job thousands of jumps from Contraxia, so of course we'd still cross pahahaths!" he said as his ribs ached. "It was only a matter of time. How did I not bump into her sooner?!"

"I...suppose..." Gamora said and laughed uncomfortably.

Peter lifted himself from the ground, held up an index finger, and miraculously ceased laughing long enough to say, "Just tell me. Did you--did you pronounce it 'stralemy' to Drax, too?" he asked, returning to the _oh-so-hilarious_ spaghetti fiasco. When Gamora didn't answer, he broke down again, the warrior's patience running thin.

"Are you finished?" she asked, still unable to keep a gasped laugh out of the final syllable, and Peter nodded his head and appeared to be calming the hell down for real.

"I...I love you," he said and wiped the tears from his eyes, breathing heavily. "You...trust me, I reheheheally." He cleared his throat. "I love you..." he told her, sitting up straight, and despite it being said through the silliest of giggles, Gamora knew his statement couldn't be more true.

She placed a gentle hand on his bicep while he attempted to fully shake his case of the giggles before he gave himself a hernia.

"I love _you_ ," she said with all the confidence in her bones. She didn't verbally express it often, but something deep inside begged her to communicate that undeniable fact in reply.

He smiled and his laughter died off. "And..." he said, his tone serious once more. "I always want you to follow me."

The retraction of his careless pleading during their fight was said with such remorse, and Gamora nodded in a way that stated she always would.

The pair relaxed, and Peter picked up the dusty earbud and "cleaned" it on his sock. The Zune _must_ have been set on repeat, because the damn song about the American pastry was _still playing_.

"Sooooo..." the Terran began, the cold air causing him to shiver as he glanced wistfully at the children running around and playing in the neighboring field. "Uhh, when the team...when we're together again, they don't have to...to know about...right? I--I mean..."

He sounded nervous again, embarrassed of the topic and worried about offending her. He trusted her not to repeat it, and directly asking, _'Do Rocket, Drax, Kraglin, and Mantis need to know about this highly personal and painful childhood sexual assault story I revealed to you?'_ felt like an insult to her trustworthiness.

Gamora shook her head, not insulted that he wanted to be certain this tale wouldn't become exposed.

The answer was obvious, though. She would never breach his privacy, betray his trust. She was humbled that he trusted her with something he had never told another soul, and that knowledge was her burden to bear. If the rest of their ever family found out, it would be from Peter's lips, never her own.

"This stays with us," she confirmed in a whisper, and a grateful smile formed on his face.

"And..." he sighed, insecure adding so many questions, but desperately wanting to put this subject to rest after today, and to do that he needed to confirm one more thing. "Nothing's...changed?" he asked, his voice sounding infinitesimally small.

The worst of his fears had dissolved. He was sure they were still a couple, that their relationship could continue to flourish. She said she loved him, didn't object to the term "girlfriend," but he had zero plans to revisit this discussion again; he wouldn't sleep if he didn't hear official confirmation from the love of his life.

Gamora chose her answer delicately; the idea that _nothing_ changed was absurd.

Of course things were changed.

She now held even stronger empathy for his childhood trauma and obstacles, greater respect for all he had overcome to be the man he is today. She would forever be distraught, frustrated at the unfairness that his first sexual experience was against his will, a right of passage stolen from him far too young. She would resolve to quit making accusations and tossing around scarring words without the facts.

She felt a disturbing honor to be the only member of the club to know what happened on that fateful day on that cursed planet, and she had a new enemy to be the center of her twisted revenge fantasies to imagine her most violent torture methods upon. And she had a new, deeper understanding of the grief and guilt Peter still carried over his mother.

But would any of this change her view of him as a strong, brave, sensible hero fit to lead their ragtag crew? Would it change her view of him as a responsible, caring father figure to Groot, to play with, teach, and protect him in a dangerous universe? Would she stop rolling her eyes at his obnoxious jokes and terrible puns, quit calling him insufferable when he bragged about being "devilishly handsome," or yelling at him to _put on his damn helmet_ in battle? Would she see his smile, hear that music, watch him dance and think of him as a different Peter? Would this make them fall out of love, and stop pursuing wherever that emotion took them?

Would a filthy, non-consensual act when he was a child change every moment of physical intimacy between them from being completely _their's_?

_Never._

And knowing these were the things Peter feared, she buried his worries and gave the simple, honest answer.

"Nothing's changed."

The waves of relief in his features as he kissed her hand nearly broke her heart a third time.

"But I will shove this permanently up your nose if you don't _change_ the song to one of appropriate length," she instead playfully threatened, whacking his nose with her assigned earbud. He laughed, shielding his face from her attack, and was stopped from making a distasteful innuendo when loud voices drew their attention.

"QUILL! 'MORAAA!"

The two sat up, and Gamora saw a raccoon-shaped figure in the distance.

"WE FOUND THEM!" hollered a much larger man with a tiny tree on his shoulder. "QUILL IS FINISHED PISSING!"

Peter huffed a laugh and closed his eyes. "We've been spotted."

"All five of them," she said once Mantis and Kraglin became visible and joined the crowd.

"Pack animals, I tell ya," he joked with a shake of his head, as the group staggered in their direction shouting their names.

"Are you ready?" Gamora asked quietly and took his hand.

"Yeah," he replied, and turned off the Zune, standing up with her to face reality. It didn't take long for the heavily intoxicated bunch to appear at the stone Peter and Gamora had been laying beside.

"YOU MISSED _EVERYTHING!_ " the four adults shouted not quite in unison, and the couple paused brushing the dirt out of their hair and clothes to pinch their noses and fan away the stench of enough liquor to fill one thousand spacecrafts.

"Ohhh...you guys...had fun..." Peter remarked as their collective breaths practically knocked him back to the ground.

"YOU. MISSED. EVERY--"

"So we heard," Gamora cut Drax off from bellowing in their ears. "What did we miss?" she asked, mildly curious while indulging their drunken friends.

Their eyes wide with excitement, each member of their heroic team began telling snippets of their story.

"Drax ordered this ENORMOUS salad, you see..."

"It was indeed HUGE," the destroyer laughed.

"...and a man came in with this...large diggin'...digging...tooool..." Rocket slurred, trying to think of the proper word.

"SHOVEL!" Kraglin supplied.

"RIGHT, SHOVEL! HUGE shovel!"

"HUGE!" Mantis emphasized, then became dizzy and needed to lean against Drax for balance.

"...'n the bugsss...en...the roof...in the salad..."

"And then Groot...he...uhh..."

The sober duo peered at them confused, trying to piece together this information, as the others scratched at their heads and antennae.

"Ya know...I think ya had to be thar," Kraglin spit out, and the rest nodded in agreement.

"Mmm-hmm..." Peter said, glancing at Gamora in amusement. "Well, if you've all eaten and paid--"

"Where _were_ you?!" Mantis asked sadly, then sat down on the large stone and giggled.

"Yeah, we kept CALLIN' and CALLING!"

Gamora crinkled her nose in confusion, hands on her hips. "When?" she asked Rocket. She wouldn't have interrupted or abandoned Peter for anything less than an emergency, but did not remember her communicator beeping once.

Rocket grumbled and eventually mastered the task of locating his communicator, flinging it in her face to display the call history. "Thisss many TIMES!"

She and Peter squinted at the foreign names and numbers on the screen. "That's not us," he said, suspicious of the contacts. "Who is that?"

The little cybernetic thief almost dropped the device, and looked at the list himself before pocketing it. "No one!"

"I am Groot?"

"NO. ONE!"

Peter exhaled through his nose and cringed. "Am I this moronic when drunk?" he whispered to Gamora.

"Yes," his girlfriend said, and Peter blinked in surprise at how quickly she answered. She ignored him and focused on the child dangling off his favorite uncle's shoulder, holding his tiny stomach and frowning.

"Is he okay?" she asked sweetly, and Peter noticed the tree's unhealthy state, slightly worried. The team wouldn't be irresponsible enough to let Groot consume alcohol?

"I...am Groot..." he said in a weak voice, which was difficult to translate, except for the words "candy" and "contest" and "tummy ache." His surrogate parents expressed their endearment and sympathy, and Gamora gestured for Drax to pass him over. After some awkward fumbling, he safely transferred the little guy to the sober woman, and she handed him to Peter, who smiled and cradled him against his own shoulder.

"We should return to _The Quadrant_ ," their leader said. "It's getting dark."

"OHHH, I had NO idea!" the furry drunken creature exclaimed, his boozed-up brain having no effect on his sarcasm. "I thought I was goin' BLIND!" he shouted at the setting suns, spinning in circles while Kraglin helped Mantis stand back up. "Our Capt'n Obvivivivious, Eryone!" He looked down at his paws, then ahead of him to see Peter and Gamora already leading the way, and scampered to follow.

"You...didn't answer what happened," Mantis asked through a series of hiccups, seeming the least intoxicated, but also the most lightweight. "Wait...you..." she said, pointing at Peter from where he was holding Gamora's hand and walking a few steps in front. "You ran off," she suddenly remembered the events at the table before her first sips. "You ran away. Are...you alright?"

Their leader stiffened, walked slower, looked at Gamora. She shared his nervous expression and swallowed. They hadn't planned an excuse for why they were gone. Peter was a genius liar in his outlaw days, but he was having trouble coming up with something believable on the spot. Plus this was family. And Mantis, even while drunk it seemed, was highly perceptive. Caring. _Empathetic_.

He _had_ made quite a scene. The others would be asking more later. _Shit_ , when he thought he could move on and be free, only Gamora knowing...

"Umm...yeah, I'm fine..."

"We already know why Quill departed, Mantis," Drax said loudly, and Groot groaned from the noise. "He had to piss!" he exclaimed, and gave Peter a hard pat on the back that made the Terran lunge forward in pain. "Longest piss EVER. Bravo, my friend."

"Oh! Yeah!" Mantis said, perking up and laughing at the memory, small burps, hiccups, and giggles abounding as she failed to skip forward without tripping over her own feet.

"Nah, nah, nah...G'mora was furious when she followed 'im. I say they fought fer two minutes 'n were suckin' face tha rest o' tha time..." Rocket offered his tasteful opinion.

Peter rubbed the spot on his back that Drax hit, and huffed a laugh in Gamora's direction. She mirrored his relieved smile. Was it that easy? Was their wacky family that plastered that they would believe such ridiculous explanations for their absence - well, Rocket's guess wasn't _that_ crazy, honestly - without a care or second thought, no mention of the waitress that spurred his panic attack, or cause for the couple to worry or overthink the events of the day?

Their lives were busy, hectic, downright fantastical, and their friends ranged from absentminded to idiotic. They were nosy, there could be sober questions in the future, but most likely, they didn't give an orloni's ass what happened while they were eating and inebriating, so long as everyone was okay and together.

"We did bring ya...food," Kraglin said and rummaged to find it, the sober couple amazed he was still standing. "Asskavivian...mush," he claimed, and presented a leaking bag that looked and smelled already rotten.

"Thank...you," Peter said, exchanged disgusted glances with Gamora, and tossed it into the open field when he was sure none of the others were looking. He had _standards_.

"I am Groot?" the child asked, his bellyache easing.

"Sure, I'll show you more magic tricks, buddy," he said, assuming he was forgiven for his earlier deception. "Then Gamora can teach you how to make a whole dish of pasta turn black," he said with a mocking air of mystery in his voice. The female warrior glared, unamused; Drax gave another hearty laugh.

"Paha! Paste-a!"

"You know," she sighed. "Those jokes are going to become old some day."

"But not to-day!" Kraglin and Mantis cheered and joined the laughs, and Gamora's glare morphed into a smirk.

Rocket paused and his eyes widened in realization, suddenly figuring out the context of the jokes, remembering why they were eating out, why he had charged an exceptional amount of credit on Quill's account, why he was more sloshed than he had been in a year. "Gamora started a fire!" he announced, and let out a large belch.

"Yep, she did," Peter said with a nod, turning the wise-cracking rodent around, a hand on his back to steer him in the correct direction. The Terran was almost grateful he'd suffered a breakdown that resulted in him missing the drinking binge, and wouldn't be nursing the thundering headache his friends surely would be the next morning.

He was ready to recharge in his own ship, take the longest, hottest shower alone, and curl into bed with the woman he trusted most. It was all he wanted in the galaxy.

The team trudged on, feeling queasy and begging for a place to vomit their meals, their leader interspersing reassurances that they would be home soon.

Drax's minimal complaints paused when he discovered a fork in the road.

Or, more accurately, a lone sword in the field.

They had reached the approximate midway point between the slab of stone and the restaurant, where Godslayer remained upright, punctured into the hard soil. The man squinted and tilted his head, recognizing the design, and pulled it out with inconsiderable effort.

He examined the weapon and turned to Gamora, who was standing beside him, unable to speak. She felt like he could see through her, knew of her previous behavior and motivations.

"Yours?" he only mumbled, and she wordlessly nodded and swallowed. He handed it to her and reunited with the others. Peter remained focused on leading the group and speaking soothing words to the tree child drifting off to sleep.

It wasn't until several minutes of the team babbling about their wild day that he noticed Gamora had yet to rejoin him at the front, and he turned around and saw her.

The rundown pub was visible in the distance. Gamora stood still, hair waving in the breeze, the outstretched sword in her hand as she stared at the building where she presumed _someone_ was still inside.

Her expression was pensive. Contemplative. Entranced.

Peter's chest tightened, and he paused walking, hoping the others didn't notice their sudden serious demeanor or the fear in his eyes.

"...'Mora?" he whispered, a gentle prodding followed by a large gulp.

She turned around at the sound of his voice, and looked down at the bloodless, unused weapon. It would be so easy...

"Gamora," he said more firmly, holding out his hand, waiting for her to choose the better option.

She clicked the homicidal tool into her pocket, another gust of wind sending a shiver down her spine. Glancing back at the bar for only a second, she took three large steps to meet Peter and take his hand. The relieved, grateful, enamored smile on his face was worth so much more than any revenge.

Groot was snoozing soundly, and Rocket had whipped out his binoculars to shout the location of their smoke-cleared ship.

"Let's go home," she whispered, and curled into Peter's arms.


	3. Epilogue

"Groot! Grooooot! Olly olly oxen free! Groot?"

The man ducked his head under a series of cabinets to check a hole near _The Quadrant_ floor when--

"What are you doing?"

_"OWWW!!!"_

The woman with impeccable stealth covered her mouth and gave an apologetic smile for startling Peter into banging his head, _hard_ , on the metal shelf.

"Shit," he hissed under his breath and rubbed the spot, smiling embarrassed at Gamora conveniently standing there watching him. "I--I'm...looking for Groot."

Her eyes grew slightly in alarm. "You _lost_ him?"

"No!" he reassured. "No, no, no, it--it's a game." She raised her eyebrow, skeptical. "Hide and Seek. It's a children's game on Earth. Someone counts, the others hide, and then you...try to find...err...seek them?"

She grasped the concept, but not quite the appeal. "Sounds like a dangerous game for children," she commented.

"No, it's harmless. It's fun. Well, it's safe for...human children, who...are much bigger, and...don't live in...large, hazardous...spaceships..." he trailed off and looked around the scale of their home, realizing maybe this wasn't the smartest choice for a new game to teach Groot. "I'll find him," he quickly said and resumed his search.

Gamora was about to help look, when a loud _'Achoo!'_ and the words _'It is done!'_ came from the galley.

"Good! Thank you!" she called back to Drax. "And don't sneeze in it!" she ordered, amazed he could be heard over the roaring storm.

"Don't sneeze in what?" Peter asked, standing from where he was crouched under more controls, still massaging his head bump. "And what's that smell?" he asked, noticing the somewhat pleasant aroma after being unsuccessful in finding the sneaky tree.

Gamora beamed with pride. "Not. smoke," she answered, rocking gently on her heels in what Peter thought was the most adorable scene, and he figured it out.

"You cooked?" he asked impressed, biting his tongue to prevent any unfair remarks.

"Yes, and _no_ fire jokes!" she instantly demanded with a smile. "I did not tell anyone to spare myself those, but this is wholly edible."

"That's great," Peter said honestly. "Another shot at 'stralemy'?" he couldn't resist joking, and she only smacked his shoulder and shook her head.

"I am still practicing that," she confessed, and gave him a soft peck on the lips. "We really should find Groot," she said with a hand on her waist and a touch of nervousness in her tone.

Peter nodded in agreement, but waved a reassuring hand. "He's okay," he said, believing Groot was smart enough not to break the safety rules and hide anywhere he could get stuck or hurt. "Groot's just forgotten that 'olly olly oxen free' means 'I give up, you can come out now!'" the Terran shouted for the child to hear, wherever he was.

Drax entered the room wearing oven mitts and carrying a large pot. "You should be very proud of your meal. I believe it is almost cool--ahh!" he began to sneeze, and Gamora grabbed the pot away from him protectively, thankful he had not removed the lid. _"Achoooooooo!!!"_ he let out, somehow louder than the pounding hailstones falling on the ship's roof. Perhaps she shouldn't have chosen the week the destroyer had an obnoxious virus to ask for his help cooking again.

"What is it--?" Peter tried to ask and peered into the pot, and Gamora pulled it away.

"No peeking. Find Groot," she ordered, and kissed away his stupid pout.

"I think I know how to find him," their leader said with a wink, before hollering, "Groot?! Dinner's ready!"

In seconds they heard scratching, and the tiny sapling popped out of a crevice in the wall.

"I am Groot!" he said, jumping in triumph.

"Yes, you won," the Terran conceded, Gamora looking relieved, Drax blowing his nose, and rocks still landing hard outside. "Time to eat."

"I am Groot?"

"I dunno. Gamora cooked."

And with _that_ the child spun around to dash back into the crevice, Gamora gaping in offense and Peter placing his boot in front of the hole to stop him.

"No, no, no going back in there! Hey!" Peter said, failing to scoop him up before Groot ran into another room. He scoffed, turned around to notice Gamora hiding genuine hurt, and walked up to touch her shoulders. "So what are we eating?"

She smiled. "It's a Zehoberei dish. A simple one. I've...forgotten the name," she admitted, lowering her head. Peter knew she hated how little she remembered from her pre-Thanos life, and nodded in respect. "But I tracked pieces of the recipe. My parents used to make it," she explained.

"That's very cool," he said. "May I?" he asked, holding out his finger for a taste test, and she lifted the lid to allow it.

Peter wished he had a mirror to keep his expression in check after swallowing.

Gamora looked worried, embarrassed, before speaking up. "Too...many spices?" she asked in response to his slight cringe.

"Uhh...no...uhh..." He shook his head and licked his lips, struggling for the right words. "Say, you got _pieces_ of the recipe, so it's not exactly like your parents made, right?"

"No, not one hundred percent," she said.

"Then I'm sure that's why it's...off," he saved himself and cleared his throat. He knew a minor critique of her cooking skills was far less rude than a critique of her culture.

She sighed, and winced at Drax's incessant sneezing in the bathroom. "I knew it would not be perfect. We have extra food--"

"No, this'll be awesome," Peter said. "ROCKET! KRAG! MANTIS!" he shouted throughout _The Quadrant_. "SUPPER! TEN HUT!" he jokingly commanded, and grumbled about _'...who turned the music off?'_ as he strode to the Zune. Gamora returned to the galley to pour the brown, white and green speckled entree into seven bowls.

"Yo, why is Groot insistin' that Gamora cooked?" Rocket demanded to know when he entered with the tree on his shoulder, the Xandarian and empath on his heel. "And why are we listenin' to _this_ singer again?"

"What's wrong with this album?" Peter asked defensively.

"Achoo!" Drax exited the restroom and joined the team in the lounge, assuming the worst of his sneezing had subsided.

"How are you feeling?" Mantis asked him.

"This temporary blow to the immune system is very irritating."

"You wouldn't _be_ sick if you didn't go outside during the peak of the storm two days ago," Gamora gave a very maternal, passive aggressive reminder as she walked back into the room with the bowls.

"Quill said that it was 'raining cats and dogs'. I wanted to see these domestic animals falling from the sky."

Peter rolled his eyes and helped Gamora pass around the dinner.

"So who did make the grub?" Rocket asked when he received his bowl, and Groot hopped onto the sofa to sit next to Peter. Gamora gave a confident smile. "Impossible! There's no flames," the raccoon snickered and basked in the general chuckles that followed.

"Well, there were a few small--"

"Shhh!" Gamora quieted Drax, and took to the couch opposite Peter and Groot. All inspected and smelled their foreign meals. "It's Zehoberei," she explained without adding more. Rocket shrugged, made a series of unoriginal jokes at her expense, and placed his second bowl down for the tree child.

"It's really not bad," Peter told the group, and amended his phrasing once he saw Gamora's glare. "And by 'not bad' I mean ' _delicious_ '."

"I am Groot..."

"And _you're_ gonna try it and like it," the Terran instructed, and winked at his girlfriend across from him.

The sapling finally licked the top of the bowl, grabbed onto his chest, spun around dramatically, and fell onto his back with his eyes closed and tongue sticking out as though he had been poisoned. Peter covered his mouth and was sent into a fit of surprised giggles.

Gamora gaped even wider and crossed her arms. "Did you teach him that?"

Peter innocently shrugged. "Must've been Rocket," he assumed, the raccoon burying his face in the dish. "Okay, that is _not_ nice," he then scolded Groot. "You're not sick. Eat it."

"You call that parentin'? I'll get 'im to eat the same way Capt'n got you to as a kid."

Peter covered up the child's ears and glared at his brother, while everyone else took small bites with uncertain reactions. "You know the rule! No threatening to eat any kids _on my ship_ ," he reprimanded. Groot wiggled free of Peter's hands and began giggling.

"I am Groot!" he said, which translated to mockery for taking that type of teasing seriously.

"Hey, I was eight-years-old," Peter defended himself with a laugh.

"I am Grooooot."

"Yeah? Well, I guess you're just a lot smarter than I was, huh? Is that what you're sayin', ya little scamp?" Peter teased and scratched at the child's belly, causing him to kick and laugh harder, much to Gamora's amusement. "Hey! No, you have to--" he called after him when Groot ran off, and Kraglin set down his bowl.

"I'm on it," he said with a smirk, and got up to follow the kid.

"Wait, what did I just say?" Peter threw his arms up in frustration. "Ahhh!" he cried, and moved to sit beside Gamora. He stretched and picked up his bowl, and when he turned his head noticed she was giving him a fond, loving smile like they were the only two in the room.

He smiled back as the acapella, doo-wop music drowned out the booming hailstorm outside.

It had been six weeks.

Six weeks since her previous cooking mishap. Six weeks since Peter revealed that horrible story from his past. Six weeks since he faced that despicable woman twenty-five years later. Six weeks since he had a panic attack believing their relationship was over, and six weeks since their relationship was strengthened through a private, vulnerable conversation alone in a field. Six weeks since Peter _did_ take the longest shower, and met Gamora in their bed where she held him tighter than ever.

Five weeks and six days since they left their groaning friends to nurse their hangovers, and escaped to the privacy of _The Milano_ to track down that little known bar, using an anonymous contact device to speak to the owner and higher authorities, giving them the description of the specific waitress, obtaining her first name and expressing concern without explaining how or why they suspected this person of child sexual activity. They received a thank you from the establishment who had no ability to trace the call.

Gamora had done most of the work and talking, Peter mostly there to keep her calm and professional. He was okay, he was set free, especially after no longer keeping it a secret from his best friend. This wasn't for Peter. It was for any other potential victims. It was for the innocents.

But Gamora may have kept tabs on that planet's news to see if a woman of that description was searched or arrested under similar charges in the following days.

The other Guardians, once sober and living among the sane world, did sense something off with the couple. Drax and Kraglin had asked the female warrior, somewhat blunt but full of genuine concern, if anything was wrong, but she was able to convince them it was personal and under control. Mantis was conflicted on whether or not to interfere, whether it would be an invasion of privacy to touch either of her friends to read their emotions, but decided against it when they seemed happy and content again.

Peter made a promise to Gamora that he would work on his bad habit of fleeing whenever running into a former, consensual one-night stand, never wanting to scare her into thinking it was something as serious as the latest encounter, vowing that if it truly bothered her, he would suck it up and face any embarrassment and ass-kicking. He also doubled down on his "never walking away in the middle of an argument" rule, much to the aggravation of their team each time the couple had even the smallest disagreement.

He suffered a handful of restless nights and unpleasant dreams, though in a matter of days, things did seem to return to... _normal_.

"Ohhh, this is wonderful!" Mantis suddenly declared. Gamora smiled up at her, thinking it regarded her food, and sighed in disappointment when she saw the empath reading from a holopad. "We are going to be RICH!"

"Are we?" Peter raised an eyebrow.

"Listen to this job offer! Hypnotizing orlonis for painless, scientific research. It pays 75,000 units per _hour!_ " she said in amazement.

Only to be confused by her friends' blank stares. 

"...you know howda do that?" Kraglin asked, carrying a laughing tree by the foot and handing him to the rodent.

The empath realized her oversight. "You guys...don't?" she guessed, and everyone else shook their heads. "Hmmm."

Whatever definition of "normal" fit their lives, anyway.

"But hey, you split the profits with us, and you can hypnotize as many critters as ya want," Rocket chimed in before taking another bite. Peter and Drax pointed to him and nodded in agreement. They could use the money, especially after the storm finally ceased.

"This...ain't bad, G'mora," Kraglin offered, chewing and wondering if the mixture was supposed give his teeth that odd feeling. Why did none of them have beverages? "Not Ravager style, but fairly pleasin'."

"Thank you."

Drax sneezed loudly again, and Mantis scooched away from the germ-ridden destroyer.

"Speaking of Billy Jolt--"

"Joel, and no one was speaking of him, though we were enjoying him. You about to change that?" Peter asked the raccoon in a dry voice, not looking up from his bowl.

Rocket pointed a claw at the Zune playing the same vocals endlessly. "You have been playin' _this_ singer for...for..."

"The longest time?" the Terran said, a fork sticking out of his mouth to suppress the grin for his very _clever_ joke.

The raccoon squinted. "You deserve to be shot for that."

Peter scoffed and looked at Gamora. "You do," she agreed, and cringed when her taste buds felt the food she prepared.

"Hey, you drunk idiots started it," he said. They had indeed come home that night to blast _We Didn't Start the Fire_ on repeat, oblivious to the historical message and gloating their arson-free actions. "Can I help that we really enjoy his collections?"

"There should be a rule against playin' one artist for over a month!" Rocket growled, and Drax could be heard muttering, _'he has a point'_.

The human sighed and leaned into Gamora. "Well what do you guys wanna hear?" he asked, and to his surprise, the entire team joined the discussion and jumped to throw out their requests.

"Matriarch!" Drax shouted through his clogged sinuses.

_Queen._

"Roaches!" said Mantis, bouncing in her seat.

_Beatles._

"Cooper," Kraglin said with a wink.

_The male heavy metal artist my brother still thinks is a chick._

"I am Groot!"

_No idea._

"What do you think, Gamora?" Peter turned to her and asked, Mantis crossing her fingers and whispering, _'Roaches, roaches, roaches...'_

And Gamora considered, staring at her half-empty bowl and soaking up the themes of the optimistic ditty: perceived innocence lost, happiness continuing, taking chances in the name of romance, and holding the person you love. She looked at Peter and was entirely deaf to the rustling air currents and falling rocks on their windshield.

"I like this song," she said, causing Peter to grin and everyone else to groan.

"Come on, she can't have the deciding vote!" Rocket stated, unaware of the context and deeper meaning the couple was taking from it. "Need I remind you that I was falsely accused, and therefore have total say in the tunes?" he argued.

"Need I remind _you_ that it's been over a month, and ya need to get over it?" Peter said with equal confidence. The little rodent couldn't hold that against him anymore.

The fuzzy beast silently acknowledged this, and snapped his paw in Kraglin's direction. "You. Do something."

"What's he gonna--?"

"Did I ever tell y'all 'bout tha time Yondu displayed Pete's wet, yellow-stained sheets and PJ's all 'round tha cockpit for tha whole crew to--"

"Alright, alright, zip it!" Peter said after his eyes went wide and he jolted from the couch, though it was too late. Groot and the others were already laughing at the implication. "Ugh, how about...we finish this playlist, then you a-holes can play whatever you want?" he reasoned.

"Deal."

Their leader sighed and dropped his head in Gamora's lap, leaving his unfinished bowl on the table, hoping she wouldn't notice.

She did notice, but didn't care, staring at him with overwhelming affection in her eyes.

Gamora had reassured Peter, six weeks ago on that lousy afternoon, that what he told her regarding what a stranger had done to him as a child wouldn't negatively change their relationship, that it wouldn't make a difference in their lives or how she saw him.

And so far that couldn't be more true.

It made no impact when they stopped a bank robbery they witnessed in progress across from a fueling station, Peter insisting on smuggling the twin Kree children who were being held hostage out to safety, while Gamora and Drax apprehended the crooks and Rocket fixed the alarms. Nor did it impact a thing when Peter was called out for humming, doodling, and creating "paper airplanes" during a boring Nova Corps negotiation meeting. Also not at all when he helped build and install the tarp to protect the ship from the impending storm that was now keeping them cooped up inside waiting for it to pass.

It didn't matter when they all went ice skating for Mantis' first ever estimated "birthday" celebration, that resulted in everyone but Gamora and Rocket landing flat on their asses ninety-five percent of the time. It didn't make a difference when Kraglin told the story of a twelve-year-old Peter thinking the casino gambling machine was an arcade game and costing the Ravagers the jackpot, and an oblivious Terran entered a room full of snickering to ask, _'What's so funny?'_.

It didn't change how she saw him when Peter put Groot in "time-out" for blindly dancing over and breaking the autopilot, feeling like shit for having to be "the bad guy." Gamora comforted him, knowing he hated being a disciplinarian instead of a fun parent, and when the toddler's punishment was over the leader was back to showing him disappearing fruit "magic tricks" that involved no stealing.

Their relationship dynamic wasn't altered when Peter woke up one morning and smiled upon seeing Gamora lying next to him with his Zune's tiny speakers in her ears, only to take offense when she explained the reason was to mute his _'louder than usual'_ snoring. This sent the pair into a dozen rounds, the Terran hero asserting, _'I do not snore!'_ and the ex-assassin declaring in exasperation, _'Oh my god, you snore almost every night, Peter! Last night was so unbearably loud, and I needed sleep!'_.

It didn't change her outlook on their lives during every pop and rock debate, every mundane first-aid kit restocking, or any time the group claimed they were back late from the grocery shop because they were recognized and hounded for autographs.

And it certainly had no influence when Gamora and Peter had _The Quadrant_ all to themselves for a "date night." He told her a space legend about a badass named Ripley. She asked, _'May I have this dance?'_ during a romantic song by the same Billy singer. They made love entirely on their own terms, the first time since Gamora knew of his previous violation, but without the slightest thought or fear about it.

The significant trauma when Peter was nine-years-old didn't make a dent in their bond.

"What?"

Gamora looked down at Peter's head in her lap to see him gazing up at her curiously.

"Nothing," she said with a smile and played with his hair. "The storm's supposed to finally pass from these parts after tonight."

"Yay. I have missed sunshine," Mantis said.

"Better frickin' pass, 'cause I ain't stayin' stuck in here with you jerks, sneezin' everywhere, leavin' the dishes filthy, playin' the same music that used to be a variety over and over and over..." Rocket grumbled as he walked past the couple with his empty bowl, picking crumbs out of his fur. "Not bad, for a reformed arsonist," he commented in Gamora's direction and headed for the galley.

The overall conversation turned to needed repairs and future work, and Mantis applied for the orloni hypnosis job, because _why not?_ At some point Peter pretended to be dozing, and their family left the room to clean up.

"Thanks for the cuisine," he said once they were alone. "Culinary genius."

Gamora grinned, aware he was exaggerating, but grateful he had encouraged her to try again. She would never be the Guardians' top chef, nor was it her goal, but she also wasn't a quitter. It took this goofball Terran she loved to remind her of that.

"Unless," he mumbled, "you only cooked to get out of dishes duty."

The warrior kissed his forehead in an unspoken _'I love you'_ , and on cue was the sound of intense splashing, Rocket berating someone for sneezing on his tail, and Kraglin playfully threatening to swallow Groot.

"Euggghhhh..." the captain groaned and moved to his father's gift, the couple's chosen playlist over. "It's a simple rule. No threatening to eat any kids on the ship," he ranted under his breath. "No good comes from it. It's a good rule, it's fair, it's humane. I remind 'em, I emphasize it, but nobody listens..."

The woman he loved lightly chuckled and shifted in her seat. "Some of us listen, Star-Lord," she said as he turned the Zune to a _Queen_ song for Drax.

"YEESS! _ACHOO!_ "

"So...'Only the Good Die Young.' Its meaning isn't as morbid as the title implies, correct?" she asked teasingly, partially rhetorical. The upbeat, fun, and almost _naughty_ tone of the previous song seemed pretty self-explanatory, but she wanted to be sure there was no disrespectful misinterpretation.

Peter gave her a knowing smile, shuffling to help scrub crusty plates and bowls while the torrential hail raged on.

"You really do listen."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on a Billy Joel kick. Can you tell?
> 
> In all seriousness, if you read this from beginning to end, I am extremely grateful that you took the time. I was very concerned about posting it. It's my longest fanfic ever published, my first time posting a multi-chapter fic, and my first time writing something this heavy or sensitive.
> 
> But enough about me! I want to hear from readers. Please don't think your comment needs to be long or profound. If you want to give general thoughts, mention a single line or scene, or give constructive criticism, all is welcome. Your feedback means the world to me.
> 
> And even if you don't comment, thank you again for reading this piece that I do hope was emotionally effective, in-character, funny in the appropriate and intended parts, and not at all disrespectful to the complex themes and subject. I think it's safe to bet this will be the last GotG fic I publish before _Infinity War_ takes over our minds, and I put a lot of work and heart into it.  <3
> 
> My _Guardians of the Galaxy_ tumblr is [here](https://marypoppinswasmyfatherbitches.tumblr.com/)!


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